


The Academy

by StonyAvengerGirl16 (CharmedBritannia)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bucky is fine, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, SHIELD Academy, because I said so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmedBritannia/pseuds/StonyAvengerGirl16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is just a kid from Brooklyn.</p>
<p>He's not rich, or large, or even all that healthy. But he's got spunk for miles, and he hates himself a bully. So when he gets his letter, he sees his chance to change the world. To finally be able to truly fight for the little guys.</p>
<p>Tony Stark is a billionaire's wonder-child.</p>
<p>He's got money, he's got admirers, and he's got a future paved in gold. But he doesn't see it that way. He sees a future where 'Stark' means more than 'Tony'. When he gets his letter, he sees a chance to finally leave Howard's shadow; to make his own name.</p>
<p>Enter SHIELD Academy, better known as The Academy. A super-secret super-special school that specializes in training tomorrow's best of the best of the best. They will cross paths with the other, unknowingly (and possibly unwillingly) intertwining the threads of their fates.</p>
<p>But when a hostile enemy threatens the dreams of their ideal futures (and everyone in them), they'll have to put aside their differences...and avenge them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kay. Just want to clear some stuff up. 
> 
> Treat this as if it were a regular college, alright?  
> Year One= Freshman  
> Year Two= Sophomore  
> And so on. 
> 
> And the A, AA, and AAA things; think of those as like a GPA. The better you do, the higher the GPA. Got it?
> 
> And the Clearance Level goes:  
> 1=rookie. They don't know shit.  
> to  
> 5= seasoned pro. They are top of the food chain.  
> Anything above 5= alumni of The Academy. 
> 
> So Steve would be: A freshman in college, with an average GPA, that just got out of orientation. Just follow that formula for everyone else, okay. 
> 
> And Tony and Steve are closer in age because it's my AU and I have my reasons :3  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Steve's First Day-** _

 

Steve looked up at the nondescript building and scrunched his eyebrows. This couldn't be right. He was expected something...shinier. Busier. More technical looking. Was he in the right place?

 

"Hey!"

 

He whirled around to see a shorter, blonde man coming towards him. His hair was sandy and windswept, and he was carrying what looked like...a bow case and arrows?

 

"Yeah, you! You gotta card?"

 

Steve snapped out of his scrutiny and fished around for it. Clint looked at it, then at him skeptically. He understood. When he'd had his picture taken, he was about six inches shorter, much skinnier, and bruised. He sighed, and pulled out his driver's license. Clint's eyes rose almost to his hairline.

 

"Damn. Some growth spurt, huh?"

"You have no idea."

 

Steve had felt like he was going to die. His training period before coming here had really worked. He still had his inhaler just in case, though. It was strange; he usually couldn't catch a dame's eye if he was under her nose. Now they saw him a mile away, and didn't look away once.

 

"Well, you're obviously fresh out of GROOT."

"GROOT?"

"Ground-based Recruit Operations and Offense Training. GROOT."

"Oh! Yeah. That."

"Well then, rookie. Allow me to give you your first real look into The Academy."

 

Steve nodded his head. Hushed whispers among the new recruits had given him insight to what they thought it was like.

 

_'I bet it's completely covered in chrome.'_

_'No way. Everything's probably holographic, like in Sci-fi movies.'_

_'Really? I bet the building is invisible, and that's why no one knows what it looks like.'_

 

**_'They say The Academy is where people become heroes.'_ **

 

Steve had relayed that thought over and over again in his head. A hero. That's what he wanted to be. And that thought drove him through the grueling training, through the aches, the pains, the bruises, the short of breath, and everything else. And to everyone's amazement (including his own), his dedication gave re-birth to an over six-foot tall, strong, healthy adult male.

 

He was still getting used to it.

 

"Follow me, into your destiny."

 

He snatched Steve's card out of his hand, and pulled his out as well. He placed them both on a small, shiny tray that seemed to come from nowhere. After a beep, he leaned forward. A small hiss was heard, and the man stepped aside.

 

"Just stare at the red dot."

"Alright, why-"

 

He flinched when a red light nearly blinded him. Another hiss, and a swoosh.

 

"You get used to it. Come on, you've got thirty seconds to get through the door."

"Jeez, I hope so. And what...door..."

 

A door and room had seemingly come from nowhere, and the other man was already standing in it. He hurried to get inside as well. This seemed very...odd.

 

"Name's Clint, by the way. Year Three, Class AA, Clearance Level 4."

"I'm Steve. Year One, Class A, Clearance Level 1."

 

Clint raised an eyebrow.

 

"Everyone in this building is at least a Class A, Rogers. Unless you've moved up, there's no need to state your Class. Or your Clearance Level."

  
Steve felt his face burning. Curse his Irish skin. Clint said nothing about it, and the rest of the ride was silent.

 

At least until they reached the main floor.

 

He stepped out of the elevator, mouth agape. Everything the other recruits had said, it was true. _Only thrice as amazing._ There was an entire _city,_ it seemed. There were pathways stretched along the outer walls, and criss-crossed pathways along the center. A huge tower stood in the center of the complex, and elevators were zooming up and down everywhere he looked. Different buildings had different signs and doorways. People were walking back and forth, some hurried, some relaxed. A group of young women in skin-tight blue field suits chattered away while striding in a line. It would have looked totally normal if they weren't carrying guns the size of his forearm over their shoulders like they weighed nothing at all, or even existed. He blinked, and looked over at Clint.

 

"What do the colors mean?"

"What?"

"The suits. What do the colors mean?"

"Oh! Well, that tells whether or not you're a badass."

"...What?"

"From your size and stature, I'd guess you were recruited as a field agent. Field agents get the snazzy blue suits."

 

He looked, and could see quite a few blue suits, most carrying some sort of firearm.

 

"Covert operations get the sexy black suits."

 

He saw a few black suits, but not nearly as many as blue ones.

 

"And the nerds down in the R&D get the dorky grey and white suits."

 

He refrained from telling Clint that he actually liked the grey and white suits.

 

Nevermind all that! Let's see what's in your quarters, shall we?"

 

He led him down another flight of stairs to a hallway full of what looked like small apartments. He followed Clint, and listened to his muttered ramblings.

 

"Peterson...Perton...Portmen, Quincy... ah! There it is. Rogers, right?

"How do you know my name?"

"On your card, dude."

"Oh. Right."

 

Steve blushed again. Goddamnit! It was his first day and he was already shoving his foot down his throat. How was he going to make it here if he couldn't even talk like a normal person?

 

"Hey! Hey! Easy there, big guy. You just need to relax. You made it. You came out on top, congratulations. Now sit down, calm down, because you are still a person and people need to fucking relax."

 

Steve plopped down on the bed (it was much more comfortable than his one back in Brooklyn, and the ones at GROOT) and took a deep breath. Clint was right. He had made it. So after saying goodbye to Clint, he plopped his bag down in the closet, and decided to hop in the shower. With his body clean and his mind now clear, he was able to climb into bed and sleep.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_Tony's First Day-_ **

 

They had to be shitting him.

 

They couldn't be serious.

 

He stared at the boring, gray building for a little longer. Nope, it didn't shimmer like a holograph. It really was just a concrete fucking building.

 

"Are they kidding me? This is it? 'The Academy' my ass. It looks like SHIELD Academy was just another waste of fucking time, just like the last three-"

"Excuse me?"

 

Tony glared at the man next to him. He took in the wild hair, ratty trainers, and wrinkled clothing. This didn't look like someone who 'The Academy' would choose to let into their gates. The man just allowed himself to be critiqued.

 

"Who are you?"

"I'm Bruce Banner. You must be Anthony."

"Call me Tony."

"Alright, then. Tell me Tony, do you have a card?"

"Yeah, I do. But I don't know where I'm supposed to use it, seeing as how the shuttle let me off at this fucking hunk of concrete-"

"Just calm down. I'm here to welcome you. Follow me."

 

Tony never was one to just let people lead him around, but seeing as how his options were to A) follow this Banner fellow, B) Stand here outside this damn brick wondering how the hell you get inside, or C) give up and go home to Howard and Obie's 'wow-what-a-fuck-up' disappointed faces. He had kind of spat on them both when he told them he was going to accept the invitation to SHIELD Academy, especially since Howard had tried (and failed) to attend there himself. He was not going to go back without having walked through those damn doors at least once.

 

"Fine. Lead the way."

 

He watched in curiosity as Banner placed his card on a silver tray, and leaned in. He motioned for Tony to do the same, and once Tony had completed the process ("fuck, that stings-" "you get used to the feeling" 'like _hell_ I will") they were whizzing downwards in some sort of elevator. It didn't take but a second, and they were at the main floor.

 

And Tony was begrudgingly impressed.

 

The area was huge, with many pathways, elevators, stairways, and buildings. There were weapons _everywhere_ (no doubt designed by Howard). Banner led him to the R&D labs, and he was welcomed by people just like him; intelligent, sleep-deprived, and more than a little quirky. There was Reed Richards, a Class AAA Clearance level 5 he was introduced to who was working his ass off on his graduating project, and could barely offer him a hello, Hank Pym, who didn't seem to notice his presence at all, someone obviously named Jane because Reed shouted her name out of nowhere at the top of his lungs, and all other genius-type people. He smiled a little. He could get used to this place. Banner turned to him and offered a smile.

 

"By the way, my full code name is Bruce Banner, Class AA, Clearance level 4. Welcome to SHIELD Academy."

 

Tony gave a small smile back.

 

"Glad to be here, Banner."


	3. Chapter 3

**STEVE'S POV-**

 

Steve was awoken by the communal alarm at six-thirty in the morning. He had been having his first decent night's sleep in probably about six months, and to say he was startled would be an understatement. He rolled out of bed (portraying none of his usual physical prowess) and his face was made aquatinted with his floor. Swearing in a way that his mother would wash his mouth out with soap for, he jumped to his feet, and made his way over to the bathroom. Once he was awake, showered, shaved, and brushed, he padded over to where his closet was. He opened it, and low-and-behold, there was a blue suit. He pulled it on, laced up the boots provided, and looked in the mirror. He couldn't believe it. There he was, getting ready to be a student at SHIELD Academy. What would his younger self would have said if he'd told him that? He gave one last grin to the mirror, before grabbing his bag and leaving his quarters.

\---

Breakfast was chaos.

 

There was none of the order that you'd expect from a military academy, but then again, SHIELD wasn't really military, was it? The commons was as rowdy and loud as any high school cafeteria, and the only difference was that the food looked a little better. He was about to find a secluded area when he heard a familiar voice.

 

" _Steve?"_

_"Bucky?"_

 

His face almost split in half he grinned so much.

 

"You jerk! This is where you've been all this time?"

"Yeah, punk. I left the streets in search of a better life, someone found out that I was tougher than average-still don't know who the hell they are-and next thing I know I'm clothed, fed, and being taught how to damage shit for money."

 

The redhead he was sitting next to gave him a swift punch to the crotch. Steve winced in sympathy as Bucky groaned.

 

"We don't 'damage shit for money', you idiot. We gather information, and only engage in combat if absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, of course. And you just so happen to need to engage in combat every single mission we go on."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. So Steve, what's with the new body?"

"Just a lot of training, Buck. And a very restricted diet."

"I heard that sass. Anyway, Steve, this is Natasha Romanov, Year 3, Class AAA, Clearance Level 5."

"Wow. Um, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well, awkward butterfly."

 

He blushed, and both those damn sadists started laughing.

 

"Wow, Steve. You may have an adult body, but you are as baby-faced as you were 12 years ago. Are you even legal?"

"You damn well know that I am twenty-two years old, _James._ "

 

Bucky stopped laughing immediately.

 

"You punk."

"You jerk."

 

Bucky just glared, and then pounced.

 

Bucky was taller and more built than he remembered. But so was he. It wasn't long before they were both wrestling for control on the floor of the goddamn commons. Bucky had experience on his side, but Steve had raw power, strength, and size. It seemed like no one was going to win, and that he should be ashamed (he's _rough-housing_ on the _floor_ in the _commons_ of _SHIELD ACADEMY_ ), but he's not. The whistles of the people around him, the joy at being able to do this with Bucky again, and the gleeful knowledge that he could do this with Bucky again _and possibly win_ kept him going.

 

Until they bumped into someone.

 

Or tumbled into someone, more like.

 

The person they tumbled into obviously wasn't expecting over 200 lbs.of field agents to come rolling through the walkway, because they fell over him and Bucky, dropped their breakfast, and fell straight on their face.

 

Everything went silent.

 

They both watched in terror as the (boy?!) person picked himself up. The white and grey suit gave away the fact that he belonged in the R&D section. They were both bigger than him, but for some reason the person they hit (seriously, how old was this...kid?) gave off the aura of a very, very, _very_ pissed off, stepped on snake. He stood up, straightened, and turned towards them. Now, he knew that this wasn't the time to be commenting on this, but he was... _attractive._ And not in a 'I'm trying very hard' way. In a 'I know I'm attractive, you know I'm attractive, so let's just agree and move on' kind of way. He stood with such confidence that he made Steve feel small. He was kind of short and lean, but you could tell he was muscular underneath his suit. His eyes were an amber-hazel-chocolate mix that if it was a candy he'd probably be addicted to it, and his hair was thick, curly, and brown like dark chocolate. His skin had a natural tan with no acne whatsoever. His lips were unusually plump and pink for a guy, even though he'd pursed them into a straight line. His eyes were narrowed dangerously behind wide-rimmed glasses, and though Steve had never referred to himself as 'kinky', he had to admit that he got hotter the more his face soured.

 

What. The. _Hell._

 

"It's nice to see that some things just don't change."

"And what, pray tell, doesn't change?"

 

Steve's eyes snapped to Bucky, who had gone ice-cold. He never did like strangers snarking at him, especially if they were younger or smaller than him. The stranger looked like he couldn't give any less of a damn.

 

"The fact that the large-ass, stupid-ass jocks are inconsiderate as fuck to anyone who's not in their 'circle'."

"Excuse me, asshole. It was an accident."

"No shit. But there wouldn't be an accident if you two meatheads weren't rolling around like toddlers in the _MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING COMMONS."_

 

His voice had risen, and so had Bucky. He stood a almost a head over him, but he would not back down.

 

"Well at least I'm not being a dick to people I don't even know!"

"Last I checked, making someone fall on their face before breakfast is a dick move!"

"Who the _FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"_

"I'm Tony Fucking Stark, you prick!"

"Fucker!"

"Asswipe!"

"I bet you don't even belong in that class. Did your daddy pay for your spot, you spoiled rotten little-"

 

*CRACK*

 

_"FUCK!"_

 

Bucky staggered back, taken by surprise. Tony stood over him, hand already starting to swell, looking _murderous_.

 

"I f you EVER accuse me of that...ever fucking again...I will fucking end you, or die trying. I've put with to much shit from you people my entire life to have to deal with it here. You may have the other R&Ds intimidated...but you will NEVER do that to me. So you judgmental asshole, I hope I've made myself clear."

 

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away.

\-----

"Ow. Ow. _Fucking ow._ "

"Hold still, idiot. You got what you deserved."

"I don't think I deserve a broken fucking nose, Nat."

"I agree with Natasha, Buck. That was cruel."

"You're only saying that because you want him-"

"I do not-"

"I sure hope not."

 

 

He turned to see Clint walking up to them. He was scratched up a bit, so he had obviously just finished a training session.

 

"I really hope not, Rogers. Because the white suits and blue suits are like the damn Capulets and Montagues.  They will never get along. Ever. It's not possible."

"Why not?"

 

It was Natasha who spoke up.

 

"Because the blue suits don't believe the white suits belong here; they didn't have to go through the extensive physical training they did. And the white suits think that the blue suits are just unfair assholes, and that brain power should trump muscle."

"Obviously Stark had enough muscle to crack Barnes' nose."

"I'm glad you all think that my bleeding nose is funny."

 

Steve left them to it, intending to go (hopefully) apologize for Bucky's behavior. But then he overheard it.

 

"Did you see Stark's hand? He obviously wasn't trained for it."

"I'm surprised he could reach."

"It's not our fault that they don't train as much."

"If they slept more, and ate less, then maybe it wouldn't have hurt him so much."

"I know right-"

" _Shut up."_

 

The other blue suits looked at him and blanched. He knew what his face must have looked like, but he was _wearing_ one of these suits, goddamnit. And he would prefer to look at it with pride, not shame over the stereotype of how they acted. He couldn't _stand_ bullies.

 

"Do you understand that they make your weapons? That they made the gear that's keeping you safe? The communicators? I bet if you went on a single mission without using anything they had a hand in, you'd be dead, or at least severely wounded. If they all just up and left, this whole place would just go to hell. So show them some damn respect. It's the least you can do."

 

And he strode out with a newly refreshed intent on finding Tony and apologizing.

\------

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**_Tony's POV_** -

 

"Ow. Ow. _Fuck, Banner."_

"Be quiet, Tony. You're the one who decided to deck a blue suit."

"He was being an asshole."

"Tony."

 

Tony looked up, surprised at Banner's stern tone.

 

"Listen, Tony. We are white suits. They are blue suits. Blue trumps white here. So trying to solve problems by fighting them is not an option. The only thing we can do is stay calm and let the fact that we're smarter than them do the talking."

"Like _hell_ I will."

"Tony-"

"No, Banner. I will not sit here and let some fucking dickheads control how I can and can't act. We are just as important, if not more, than they are. And I hope for your sake that you learn that."

"I've been where you are Tony."

"Then why-"

"Because I lost my temper and started beating a blue suit. And when I was taken to see the Dean, I was punished much more severely than they were. Blue suits are expected to fight, Tony. That's why they're here. We are all geniuses. That's why we're here. And when you do something that blurs the line, you get disciplined. Harshly."

 

Tony scowled. If he got them to shut the fuck up, he'd take that option any day.

 

"Whatever, Bruce. Thanks for the help. I have to get to class."

"Which class?"

"Uhhh....something about History?"

"Since I'm assuming you're not into Art, that you're going to W&C History."

"Yup. There it is."

"Tony."

"Yes?"

"That class is crawling with blue and black suits."

"So?"

"What are you doing in it?"

"Don't look at me like that, Banner. I took an exam, and got put here, in this section. My personality and interest questionnaire put me there, in that class."

"That's...rare."

"Well, aren't I a special little snowflake. See you, Brucie Bear."

 

He missed Bruce's contemplative stare as he left.

\----

 

Bruce was right. This class was crawling with blue and black suits.

 

And not one white suit.

 

The teacher looked at him with a confused look.

"Are you lost, son?"

"Is this Weapons and Combat History?"

"Yes..."

"Then no."

 

The teacher's eyes got wide, and he flipped open his roster.

 

"And you are..."

"Anthony Stark."

 

His eyes got even larger.

 

"Well...have a seat, then."

 

He turned towards the seating arrangement, and saw most of the blue suits looking at him like a piece of gum on the bottom of their shoe. Where the fuck was he going to sit-

 

"Tony!"

 

His eyes snapped to the front-right corner.

 

Oh, shit.

 

It was one of the guys from earlier. What did he want, seriously-

 

"Come sit next to me."

 

His eyes widened, and his weren't the only one. The blue suits around him looked at the guy as if he had invited a shark to go swimming with him; like he was making an incredibly _dumb_ decision.

 

"Come on!"

 

He looked down, and shuffled over towards him. It was either that, or walk to the back like a loser. He set down his bag, and tried his hardest not to look at him.

 

It was hard.

 

The guy had a body like Adonis, which his suit only emphasized. His jawline could cut diamonds. He was tall, blonde, and very, _very_ muscular. His arms looked like tree trunks, as did his legs. But his face was so earnest it was adorable. He was serious, the face did not match the body. His eyes were wide, and colored a crisp, clear shade of blue, his lips were full, and his hair was combed neatly and looked extremely soft. He reminded Tony of a blonde puppy. A blonde puppy that Tony kind of wanted to make out with. Which was a disturbing simile. While he was going on in his head, Blonde Puppy Guy started to speak.

 

"Look, I'm sorry for the way that my friend acted in the Commons this morning. He had no right to say that to you."

"Apology...accepted?"

 

Tony didn't really know what to do about this. People didn't _apologize_ where he came from. They purposefully tried to stab you with their words until you were left bleeding, embarrassed, and confused.

 

"Oh, that's a relief. I'm Steve, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Steve."

 

Steve smiled, and Tony took notice that his grin was bright and wholesome.

 

He was _so_ fucked.

 

All of a sudden Steve turned worried.

 

"Your hand...was it hurt too badly? It was swelling when you left this morning..."

"What? No! Steve, it's fine. Just some bruised knuckles. I mean, it hurt like a motherfucker, but I'll live."

 

Steve looked at his wrapped hand with concern, before giving Tony a smaller smile. Tony awkwardly returned it before turning back towards the front, desperate to focus on something else. He inwardly shook his head. What the fuck was he thinking, this guy was a blue suit. No matter how cute and chivalrous he acted right now, he probably laughed about him and his fucked up hand with the rest of those assholes.

 

Fuck that.

\--------

 

"What the fuck are you doing here, vanilla?"

 

He paused in wrapping his knuckles, and glanced over at the speaker.

 

"Well, my mommy and daddy loved each other very much, so..."

"Save the snark, asshole. What are you doing here?"

"I'm assuming this is the training hall. I'm working out."

 

The obviously a blue suit narrowed his eyes.

 

"Why? All you do is sit in the lab like all the other vanilla bitches."

 

His friends gave him high-fives, cracking up. He narrowed his eyes.

 

"Well, this bitch could make a bitch out of you any day."

 

That stopped them short. They looked surprised that he hadn't left. Well, tough shit. The other R&Ds let themselves get pushed around. He wasn't going to let that shit fly. He'd been taken hostage twice as a kid, and Howard had finally said 'enough of this shit' and enrolled him in martial arts classes. He had actually enjoyed it, and demanded to take more, along with boxing. That, combined with his compact frame, good balance, and extremely vast knowledge of physics, he was a force to be reckoned with. Just because he was known for his mind doesn't mean his body was weak.

 

"What did you say, vanilla?"

"Let's go, asshole."

\-------

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Steve's POV-**

 

"Um...can I help you, young man?"

"Actually, you can, ma'am. Is this Advanced Psychology and Sociology?"

"Yes, it is."

"Oh, swell. I'm in the right place."

 

She raised an eyebrow, no doubt taking in his blue suit.

 

"Are you sure this is the class you're looking for?"

"My name is Steven Rogers, ma'am."

"Rogers...Rogers...Rogers. Well. Have a seat, then."

 

He looked over towards the seating area. The class was about 60% white suits, and 39.999% black suits. And then there's him, the outlier, the sad, stupid blue suit. He could feel his face burning. How could Tony look so calm back there? This was awful. He thought he was going to hyperventilate-

 

Oh, there was Natasha.

 

She gave him a miniscule nod, and gestured towards the seat to her left.

 

Oh, thank God.

 

He quickly strode through the aisles towards her seat, trying his hardest to pretend he wasn't being stared at. He finally sat down, and watched people slowly turn back towards the front. Natasha kicked him in the shin, and he had to hold in a yelp.

 

"What are you doing here, you idiot?"

"I thought this class looked interesting-"

"This is an _advanced class-_ "

"I'm not stupid, Natasha. Stop treating me like I am."

"Well you must be. Why aren't you in one of the _blue suit friendly_ classes?"

"I am. But I didn't just want to fight, that seems boring. So I'm also taking this class, World Relations, and Art II."

"What kind of blue suit are you, Rogers?"

 

Steve just stopped and stared forward for a moment before responding.

 

"I'm a blue suit when there's a reason to be."

\------

 

After that enlightening conversation, he decided to relieve some stress by heading to the traing hall. Punching bags seemed to help whenever he felt bad. He was just changing out of his suit when he heard it.

 

"Your gonna wish you never said that, vanilla."

 

Vanilla? Was that what they called white suits? What was a white suit doing here-

 

Oh, God. Only one white suit he knew would pick a fight with a blue suit.

 

Damn it, Tony!

 

He threw his suit into the locker, before running out to hopefully stop Tony from getting the shit beat out of him. What he saw was...something else.

 

Tony was _on the mat with a blue suit._

 

What the hell was he thinking?!

 

He was too late, and the blue suit lunged towards Tony. But Tony was faster, and dropped to the ground, letting his attacker sail over him. The attacker obviously wasn't expecting to hit thin air, because he stumbled forward, hitting the floor.

 

"Oh, I'm so scared. Help me, the big scary blue suit is attacking me!"

 

The blue suit was truly pissed now, and jumped up, charging towards Tony again. Tony spun out of the way, but was grabbed by the wrist. His arm was twisted roughly behind him, and the blue suit smirked.

 

"Say 'give' before I break your arm."

 

Tony's eyes (minus the glasses) flashed.

 

"Fuck that and you."

 

And then he head-butted him.

 

The attacker yelled, holding his nose. Tony, who bad broken two noses already that day before Lunch, saw this as his chance. He swung with his right, but the attacker caught it. Tony would not be deterred, and, completely ignoring his injury, swung with his left. That one was caught as well, and you could see the pain on Tony's face for a moment. But that was all he gave. The attacker wasn't taking Tony serious, just holding his hands hostage and laughing, and that's where he made his mistake. Tony was dead serious. Take his hands, he uses his legs. And that was what he did. He kneed the attacker square in the crotch with the intent to hurt. The attacker let go of his hands to hold his abused privates, and Tony used that oppurtunity to sock him square in the eye with his unbruised hand. The attacker, in a last ditch effort to save his pride, tackled Tony. Tony wound up on his back, and he struggled fruitlessly. He found himself rooting for Tony. He couldn't let this guy beat him. But he needn't be worried.

 

Tony took his knee to the crotch again. 

 

Once the attacker was off of him a little, he used his tighs to throw him forwards over his head, effectively face-planting him. The blue suit sat up, and didn't even have a chance to orientate himself before Tony's heel snapped across his face, knocking him unconscious.

 

It only took a moment before the hall erupted in whispers.

 

"Who the hell is that?"

"What kind of freak is he?"

"He doesn't belong in the white section."

"But he doesn't belong in the blue section either."

"Why is he here, anyway?"

 

He could tell that Tony was trying not to show that it affected him. But he had very expressive eyes, Tony did. He could see the hurt, the anger, the frustration, and...the acceptance. He tried to stomp them all down, anyone could see that. But it wasn't until a single, traitorous tear fell that he ran. He ran right past Steve, right out the doors; he ran as if demons no one else could see were after him. He ran as if he was trying to outrun his own emotions; his own fears.

 

Steve felt his blood boil. He felt pure, utter rage. He was sure that his skin would be hot to the touch. Like Bucky always said, he was really, really, _really_ fucking pissed off. 

 

"ALL OF YOU."

 

They all turned towards him. Any other time he would feel nervous. But now he felt nothing but anger.

 

"You should be  _ASHAMED_. That man is one of your fellow brothers in arms. He is a human. He matters. He has feelings, and fears, and insecurities. All of you do to. Blue suit, black suit, or white suit, it doesn't matter. And if you can't accept that, then fuck all of you, fuck this school, and fuck this goddamn blue suit!"

 

And because he obviously felt like burning his life to the ground, he took the blue suit out of his locker and threw it on the ground. He looked into the eyes of all his _'classmates'_ , before turning and running after Tony.

\-------

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Tony's POV-**

 

"Goddamnit!"

 

Tony punched the door of his quaters with his uninjured hand. Why the fuck did he run? He should have stayed and told them all to fuck off. But...

 

_"JESUS, Tony. Can't you act like a normal goddamn kid for once?"_

_"I...just wanted to help-"_

_"WE DIDN'T NEED YOUR GODDAMN HELP, TONY! Now they'll think I've raised a freak for a son. Is that what you want? To embarrass me?"_

_"N-n-no.."_

_"Well, you've succeeded. Jarvis, come take Tony."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"I just wanted to help Jar. I j-just wanna h-help!"_

_"No need to cry, young master Tony. Let's go. It's time for your nap."_

 

Tony sighed. He missed Jarvis. But he was here now, and he wasn't going to give those asswipes the pleasure of getting him to leave. He was about to collapse on his bed when he heard a knock on his door. Deciding to hell with the uniform, he opened the door, only to immediately shut it in Steve's face.

 

"Come on, Tony! Please open up!"

"No! And what the hell, Steve? Why aren't you in uniform?"

"I could say the same to you! And why not?"

"Because reasons!"

"That's stupid, and I'm not leaving."

 

Something told Tony that Steve wasn't bluffing, so he swung open the door, grabbed Steve by his rather impressive bicep, and yanked him inside.

 

"Jesus Christ. You really are annoying. And where the hell is your suit?"

"I threw it away."

"WHAT?!"

"The blue suit symbolizes bullying and inequality. I disagree with both of those things. So, I threw it away."

"I can't fucking believe this. You have to go to your quarters and get a new one before they realize-"

 

Another knock on the door grabbed both their attention.

 

"FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK, that's probably a teacher or something quick hide-"

 

Steve jumped into the bathroom while Tony swung open the door to face one Maria Hill. She looked rather unimpressed, but rumor has it that she always looked that way. He put on his most nonchalant face, hoping that it would hide his guilt.

 

"Oh. A.D Hill. What can I do for you?"

"Cut the B.S, Stark. We both know what you've done. And get Rogers out here too. I know he's here."

 

Tony stared for a minute before calling out.

 

"Steeeeve. We're in trouble."

\-----

 

They were walking to one of the elevators, and Tony bet they looked like quite a pair. A 'vanilla' and a blue suit-minus-the-suit walking behind a stern woman towards their absolute doom. Tony had been on this boat before, but Steve looked like his soul was about to escape out of his body. He had been stern about the fact that 'no, ma'am, I will not put on the uniform', but right now it looked like he might pass out. Tony reached out to link his arm with Steve's. Steve blushed bright red at the contact, and Tony found that adorable.

 

"You all right, big guy?"

"Yeah. Y-yes. I've just never been in trouble with the school before."

"You're shitting me. Not even once?"

"Well, I got a detention for fighting, but it was less of a fight and more me getting the crap kicked out of me."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Trust me. I'll show you the pictures. You'll believe me."

 

Tony snorted involuntarily. Why, this Steve guy was actually pretty...sweet. He didn't really fit the profile Bruce gave him of the blue suits. But, well, he didn't fit the profile of a white suit, so he guessed they were even. They soon noticed that they had stopped in front of an elevator. This elevator wasn't shiny like the others. No, this elevator was flat black, and pretty ominous. Even Tony had the feeling that what this elevator led to wasn't nice at all. Hill gave them another unimpressed look over her shoulder.

 

"This elevator leads to the Director's Office. Don't touch any buttons. Don't flip any switches. This elevator _is_ booby-trapped. Commencing any of said actions will result in immediate termination unless a code is given, which you don't have. So I suggest you enjoy the ride and get off when it tells you."

 

She turned back around and strode away.

 

Probably to go inflict fear into more students' hearts.

 

Steve had officially gone from inwardly shrieking to outwardly panicking, and looked as if he was going to just run away. Tony, calling in on more courage than he thought he had, managed to drag him into the elevator which immediately closed behind him. They stood rather close together, because neither one of them wanted to accidentally send them to their doom. This was not a thought to have right now, but Tony...could get used to hugs from him.

 

He was yanked out of his daydreams of a hot blonde dude, hugs, and a large bed when the elevator stopped. Steve had pretty much steeled himself, much to Tony's amazement. His determined face was hot. Again, not the time for said thoughts.

 

They left the elevator, which immediately swooshed back down. It was dark in the room, and very quiet.

 

"So. I hear we've got some revolutionaries in this batch."

 

The lights went on suddenly, and revealed an angry-looking black man dressed head to toe with black leather. He wore an eye-patch, and heavy boots thumped as he approached and then leaned over the balcony.

 

"My name is Director Fury. You two want to explain the clusterfuck you've created in less than 48 hours?"

 

They both stared, not knowing exactly what to say.

 

"Well, since you can't, I can. Steven Grant Rogers. Year One, Class A, Clearance Level 1. Shows extremely honed physical capabilities, with a strong determination to get even better. Good tactical skills. Recommended placement: Field Operative. Anthony Edward Stark. Year One, Class AAA, Clearance Level 1. Extensive knowledge in multiple mathematical-based subjects. Excellent engineering skills. Fluency in several languages. Overall IQ of _201._ Recommended Placement: R&D."

 

Tony could feel Steve staring at him. There it goes. Nobody ever treated him the same when they found out how smart he was. They either didn't want to sound stupid, or thought _he_ thought they were stupid. Either way, he was pretty much a loner, except for Pepper and Rhodey, his two best friends. Fury just kept right along.

 

"You see, I have a friend. His name is Phil Coulson. He's the one who got your asses in here. Now, I trust my buddy Coulson. He's been making recommendations for damn near fifteen years. And his recommendations usually are extremely well-fitting. But we can't only rely on that. So we give another test. To find out your... _interests._ You fuckers remember taking that?"

 

They both nodded.

 

"Good. Because those tests fucked up our entire system."

 

Tony looked at Steve with a 'what-the-fuck' look, and Steve looked at Tony with a 'hell-if-I-know' look.

 

"Um, Director Fury, sir, uh, well-"

"What the hell do you mean? How do two recruits tests fuck up an _entire academy's_ systems? That can't be our fault."

 

Fury gave Tony a once over.

 

"You are going to be such a pain in my ass, I can already tell. But yes, those two tests ruined everything. You see, usually those two assessments correlate. But with you two-" he pointed at them, "you two's tests were complete fucking opposites of your recommendations."

 

Tony remembered Bruce's confusion earlier.

 

_"That class is crawling with blue suits. What are you doing in it?"_

 

So he did have a reason to be, he supposed.

 

"Based on your interests, Rogers, you should be in R&D."

"But I'm not that smart-"

"You may not be smart subject wise, but your tactical abilities and interests in the world politically, socially, and even economically, puts you within the white category."

 

Steve looked like someone had socked him.

 

"And Stark, based on your interests, you should be in with the Field Operatives."

"Fuck yes-"

"BUT. You are too valuable of a knowledgeable asset to send out into the thick of the battle."

"Aw...damn."

 

Fury just rolled his eyes...er...eye.

 

"You two were put into your recommendations, but with a little red flag to keep an eye on you. And seeing as how Rogers refused to put on his uniform as a sort of social statement about the wrong-doings of the Field Operatives-"

"They were being malicious, Director Fury."

"-and Stark beat the shit out of a Field Operative and broke two noses in one goddamn day-"

"They both had it coming."

"We've decided to take a more...unique approach. Gentlemen, your new uniforms."

 

He pushed a button, and they both turned to look at the opening.

 

"...Wow."

"Holy shit."

\-----

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Steve's POV-**

 

"What. The. _Fuck."_

 

Steve rolled his eyes. He had been getting that reaction a lot, lately. At first he had been self-conscious, but now he just wanted to eat with his friends in some relative peace.

 

"Bucky."

"What are you wearing?"

"Bucky."

"I mean, where did you even get that?"

_"Bucky."_

"Is it reg?"

_"James Buchanan Barnes."_

 

Bucky shot him a nasty look, but stayed silent. Natasha just gave him a once over and raised an eyebrow. He felt like banging his head against the table.

 

"Look. It's been a rough day. I've been told some rough stuff. And the uniform...I'm not a standard Field Operative anymore. I'm a 'Special Circumstance'.

 

He was sure he'd made a fool of himself when he was first told that by Director Fury. But there was no denying it. He was here with a new Clearance Level, a new suit, and a new attitude towards SHIELD Academy. At least he wasn't alone in this predicament. A quick scan of the Commons revealed Tony, who also stood out in a unique suit.

 

Tony's basic suit was all white. His new suit was majorly white, but he now sported dark blue armbands, boots, and accents. On his right breast was a silver SHIELD insignia, which below read _Special Circumstance._ Tony walked as though he was wearing what he usually did, effectively ignoring the hushed whispers and side-glances. He looked much more comfortable than Steve did. His own suit was a darker blue than average, with a white SHIELD insignia in the middle of his chest. Instead of the armbands, he wore dark gray, fingerless gloves, dark grey boots, and a near-black utility belt. he also had the saying _Special Circumstance_ engraved on the right breast. Tony spotted him, and made his way over.

 

"How are you dealing, Steve?"

"It feels like they're stalking me."

"Well, people are attracted to those who stand out. It doesn't exactly hurt that you're blonde-haired, blue-eyed, built-like-a-fucking-tree trunk specimen of a man."

 

Steve felt his face flush.

 

"Well, what about you?"

"What about me? I'm pretty much used to being stared at. The whole rich, smart kid thing."

"Doesn't mean you don't get uncomfortable from time-to-time."

"I grew out of uncomfortable at age five, Steve."

"Whatever you say. So, are you going to be able to grace me with your presence?"

"Oooh...sorry. Not today. I have a really big project I'm working on for Advanced Engineering and Design. Probably be at it until morning."

"You need to sleep."

"Sleep is for the weak, non-geniuses of the world."

"Hey! I like sleep. And I'm not weak."

"But are you a genius?"

"Well, I'm wearing white now, so..."

"Asshole. You know what I mean. Anyway. See you at breakfast?"

"I better, or I'm dragging you out of the labs."

"Is that a threat? I feel threatened. You can't threaten me. _I'm Special Circumstances."_

 

And they both started snickering maniacally at that. Tony gave Steve a one-armed hug and a pat on the head before leaving towards R&D. Steve grinned before turning back towards the narrowed eyes of his friends.

 

"What did I do now?"

"What the hell is Special Circumstances?"

"Long story short, our assessments don't correlate, they can't really fit us into one category, so now we're both."

"And are you and Stark dating now?"

 

Steve choked on his burger. Clint had to pound him on the back to make him stop.

 

"N-NO! I mean, seriously, where the hell did you get that from, jerk?"

"Really, Rogers? That display was sickening. All that was left was for you to bat your baby-blues at him."

"I was not! Come on!"

"It was flirting, Steve."

"Not you to, Natasha! Look, we're _friends_ guys. Friends. We're both in the same, weird-ass boat, and we bonded. Yay."

 

They all looked at him with varying degrees of horror.

 

"You've adopted his _speech patterns,_ Rogers."

"I have not-"

"Look, do you want to?"

"Want to what?"

"You know. Get together with him. Hold hands. Kiss. Have sex probably-"

"CLINT."

 

He could feel his face about to combust. Damn them all. He put his head down on the table.

 

"I hate you all. That's it. I'm done."

\------

 

Now that he was a 'Special Circumstance', at least he could enjoy his classes in relative piece.

 

On Mondays through Fridays, he had C&W History as his first class. Tony was also in that class, which was both good and bad because he was never bored, but it also made it hard to focus. He also had Calculus II (Tony was in some sort of theoretical advanced class that Steve didn't even bother to ask about), English, French, and Varying Combat Techniques (Tony was also in that class, and it was very humorous to watch him beat up on people twice and thrice his size. Clint and Bucky were there too, and together they made a dangerous group). On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he also had Art II and German. On Wednesdays, he also had Advanced Psychology and Sociology with Natasha. It lead to a pretty full schedule, but the workload actually wasn't that bad.

 

Until finals came around.

 

The third and fourth years were all laughing at the poor first and second years, because they didn't have to take finals (they got the awesome classes like Piloting, Weaponry, and Battle Tactics). But since Steve was a first year, and therefore not exempt, he had four classes to study for, and two that wanted enormous papers. He knew he had it bad.

 

But Tony had it worse.

 

Really, everyone in the R&D did. Their classes wanted not only tests and papers, they wanted thesis, experiments, machines, etc.. If you had a friend, or were one of the rare few who had a boy/girlfriend in R&D...it was like sending a loved one off to war. They said their goodbyes about three weeks before finals, and didn't come back until a few days after the end of it all looking like haggard, soulless zombies. No one really knew what happened down there, because they didn't have authorization to go down there.

 

But he did.

 

He knew he always threatened to kidnap Tony from the lab, but in reality he really didn't want to. He felt like he would be intruding in their cave of genius and advancement. But some things had to be done. So here he was, riding in an elevator down towards the R&D sub-basement. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it sure wasn't this. No, scratch that. He was expecting an orderly row of lab tables, with experiments lined up. People with googles and gloves, all working in self-determined silence.

 

But damn was he wrong.

 

There was absolute chaos. It now made sense why other sections weren't allowed down here. Papers were everywhere; flying around, on the ground, just...everywhere. Small mechanical parts littered every surface. Tiny, robot things were buzzing through the air. Chemicals were bubbling. Hazardous tools were left unattended and thrown from person to person. And the R&Ds where running around, shouting at each other. Their voices ranged from yells to outright shrieks, but they were all loud:

 

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY SOCKET WRENCH?!"

"I BORROWED IT. HERE."

"HAS ANYONE SEEN THE LAST PAGE OF MY THESIS?"

"NO, WE HAVEN'T! THERE'S A SHIT-TON OF PAPERS, LOOK FOR IT, DAMNIT!"

"WHO'S ROBOT IS THIS?!"

"DOES IT FLY?"

"YES! IT JUST FLEW INTO MY FUCKING ADVANCED CHEMISTRY PROJECT!"

"I THINK IT'S MINE."

"WELL FUCK YOU, THEN."

"HEY!"

"WHERE THE FUCK IS THE WRENCH?!"

"I JUST FUCKING GAVE IT TO YOU!"

 

*BOOM*

 

"THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"

"I THINK IT WAS REED."

"FUCKING AGAIN?!"

"AGAIN."

"RICHARDS!"

"WHAT?"

"IF YOU BLOW UP MY ENGINEERING AND MECHANICS PROJECT AGAIN, I WILL FUCK YOU UP SO BAD THAT SUE WON'T KNOW YOUR FACE FROM YOUR ASS-"

 

Well, there was Tony.

 

Or, something that looked like him, anyway.

 

He had a manic expression like everyone else surrounding him. His usually well-styled hair was messy, unkempt, and full of what looked like motor oil. He had goggles on, and had stripped off the top half of his suit, tying it around his waist, leaving only a ratty tank top underneath. He looked tired, filthy, stressed, and really pissed off. And from the way that he was holding an enormous wrench like a lead pipe, ready to beat the crap out of whom he assumed to be Richards, he had been that way for a _looong_ while. Time for an intervention.

 

"TONY!"

 

And everything went silent.

 

He felt like hiding behind something.

 

Because all of a sudden he had about twenty sleep-deprived eyes on him, and he could see that the only thought going through their heads was 'he is not one of us'. Tony shook himself a little, blinked, and made his way over to him, stumbling a little.

 

"Steve? Is that you? Or have a reached the point of sleep-depravity that I start hallucinating? No. I took a power nap about thirty minutes ago. It's too soon."

 

He started poking him, and made a noise of content when he found out he was real.

 

"Awesome. Catch me."

 

And then he passed out.

\------

 

After being assured that, yes, this happened a lot during the three week period, and, no, he wasn't going to die, he reluctantly laid Tony down on one of the cots that had been left here for this purpose. He had dropped the many boxes he had been carrying when he came in, and the ravished students all jumbled like piranhas on the contents within them, which were muffins, granola bars, donuts, and an endless variety of snacks. After putting a special box for Tony under his workspace, he left. He contemplated the fact that he knew a little bit more about Tony now.

 

It was nice.

\------

 

Finals week had come and gone when Steve got his first call.

 

Things had finally settled down, and the R&Ds who had to complete finals tasks were back to their pre-apocalyptic state. He had been called into A.D Hill's office, and been notified that on Monday he would be heading out on his first field mission. She had given him a folder full of the details that they had already collected, the team he'd be working with (Clint, a large guy he'd met named Thor, and some others), and how he'd get there. He was so excited he could hardly sleep. He'd been waiting for this since he'd first shown up at GROOT. As he was packing his bag, he heard a knock on his door. He swung it open to reveal Tony, who was looking more nervous than he'd ever seen him.

 

"Hey, Tony. What's wrong?"

"Just...you're being sent on your first mission, right?"

"Yeah. I leave tomorrow."

 

He bit his lip.

 

"I thought I'd have more time, but...come with me."

 

Steve followed him into the elevator and down to the labs (which looked much neater and more sanitary than when he was down here last time). Tony took a deep breath before punching a code into his project locker. It opened with a hiss and a loud 'CLANG', and Tony reached in and pulled out...

 

"A shield?"

"Yep. Vibranium. It took forever and a lot of raw energy to synthesize enough material, but I managed it. It can stand up to about everything but a nuke...so don't get nuked, alright?"

"Tony...are you worried about me?"

"Don't be silly, Rogers. It's not as if my best friend is going out to risk his life for the first time."

"Tony. I'll be fine. And thank you for the shield. It looks like you put a lot of effort into it."

"Well, firearms can only do so much, and the material your field suit is made out of _is_ strong, but it never hurts to have extra protection."

"I really mean it. _Thank you,_ Tony."

"You're welcome, Steve. Now let's go. It's Mexican night in the cafeteria."

\------

 

This was it.

 

The aircraft was right there. He just had to board it.

 

Time to show them what he could do.

 

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and checked his shield. He'd done that a few times. Of course, the magnet holster for it was snug against his back, shield still firmly attached. He had started boarding when:

 

"STEVE!"

 

He had barely turned around when he had an armful of Tony slammed into him. Without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight.

 

"You better come back here unharmed, understand?"

"I get it, Tony."

"I mean it. If you come back beat up, I will kick your ass after I'm done being a worried, stressed out puddle of shit."

"Alright, Tony. I'll come home in one whole, undamaged piece. I promise. I have to go now. But I'll be back."

 

He unwrapped himself from Tony (somewhat reluctantly), but before he could turn again, the front of his uniform was being yanked down, and he was kissing Tony.

 

Holy shit.

 

He was kissing Tony.

 

And it was better than he had ever imagined.

 

Before he could get into it though, Tony pulled away. He kissed his cheek, and gave a small smirk.

 

"Just incentive for you to keep your promise. If you want more, that is."

 

Tony spun around and jogged back towards the main compound, giving him a wink over his shoulder as he opened the door and stepped through. He boarded the aircraft in a rose-colored, sandalwood-smelling daze, even accepting a fist bump from Clint. He couldn't even be upset that he saw. He spent the entire trip there like that, with a dopey grin on his face.

 

He better not get hurt.

\-----

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Tony's POV-**

 

It had been three days since they had lost communication with the team.

 

They had announced it to the other recruits in a mass televised broadcast within the building. When Tony had watched it, his blood had run cold as ice. Jane Foster, who was the girlfriend of one of the missing agents, was being consoled by one of the interns, Darcy Lewis. He had gone into denial at first, but then they showed the pictures of the missing agents, and it was all too real. That was Steve. Wait, no. Yes, it was Steve, but it wasn't _Steve._ It didn't have that sneaky sass. It didn't have that deep-rooted sense of justice. All it was was a flat, two-dimensional photograph.

 

It wasn't the same.

 

He had thrown himself into his latest personal project, a nasty habit that he had picked up after the drinking, partying, and sex had nearly brought his life to a standstill. So now it was wrenches, welding, and wires for him. Bruce had tried to get him to come up for air a few times, but it didn't work. With every clang of metal, with every whir of a tool, he put himself further and further into a place where nothing hurt. After a week of no contact, pretty much everyone had called it quits. They weren't coming back. Tony tried to stay hopeful, but even he was starting to wilt under the pressure.

 

Bruce had managed to drag him up to the Commons for real food (though he wasn't really going to eat much). Natasha and Bucky flanked him, providing support even in silence. All of a sudden, the sound of cheering, whistling, and clapping broke out of nowhere. Everyone ran out to the main floor, and Tony wrestled his way to the front.

 

And there they were.

 

They were alive. They were a little worse for wear, but alive.

 

Clint was leaning on Thor, his leg obviously hurt pretty badly. Thor himself was covered in bruises and scratches, but looked like he could go another round if he needed to. On Clint's other side was Steve. Wonderfully alive Steve. His uniform was darker in some places, and he had a nasty looking gash on his head. But he still held onto Clint. When a med-evac came with stretchers, Steve looked relieved. But when he scanned the crowd and made eye contact with Tony, he looked elated. All it took was an opening of his arms and Tony was across the floor and into them in seconds.

 

"Shhh. It's alright. I'm alright. See? I'm just fine."

"You ass. Do y-you know how worried I've been?"

"You must have been pretty worried if you're saying you were worried."

"Asshole."

"That's me. And Tony?"

"Yeah, Steve?"

"Sorry I didn't quite keep my promise. Can I have another kiss anyway?"

"Sure."

 

He put his hand up to Steve's lips, and kissed his cheek instead. Steve looked adorably frustrated.

 

"That's not what I meant, Tony."

"And this isn't what I meant when I said uninjured. You can have a real one after you get patched up."

"Better than a sugar-free lollipop any day."

"Thanks."

 

Steve gave him an award-winning smile and let himself be rolled away.

\-------

 

After the prodigal sons were patched up and on painkillers, the rest were allowed to see them. Bucky and Nat took residence on Clint's bed. Jane, Darcy, and Bruce were all huddled together near Thor's bed. Tony had taken Steve's bed for himself, and damn near hissed at anyone who made a move to sit as well.

"You should have seen him, guys."

"Clint."

"He was beating the shit out of _everybody._ We were there, doing impromptu undercover work for a week and a half, engaged in combat for four of those days, and Steve was just _decimating shit._ So one guy tries to get away, right? Steve's out of ammo, and there was no way he could catch him before he left the building. So get this; he _hurls the shield. And it's effective."_

 

Tony's eyes raise towards his hairline.

 

"Pretty sure I didn't build it for that."

"It worked."

"Yeah. But I didn't build it for that."

"I know, but it worked."

"Steve-"

"No, really Stark. He starts throwing the thing around like a giant, metal Frisbee. It's hitting people, and walls, and then ricocheting right back into his hand. He is using the thing as a weapon, and it's taking down more of these guys than my arrows and our guns combined. And you built that for him? That explains a lot."

Tony noticed that Steve's face was getting redder and redder.

 

"Clint. Stop it."

"Why? I'm getting to the best part."

"Clint. Stop. I mean it."

"It was cute, Steve."

"CLINT."

"Anyway, so Stevie here is battling this one huge dude. This guy seems a little smarter than the others in that he doesn't want to just let himself get the shit beat out of him. So he reaches out, grabs the shield, and tosses it away."

 

Steve looked like he was about to burst into flames.

 

"Damnit, Clint-"

"So he's looking at where the shield fell. And then back at the bad guy. The bad guy's confused right? And then Steve gets this _murderous_ look on his face."

"C'mon, Clint, seriously-"

"And he looks him dead in the eye, and says, _'m_ _y boyfriend made that for me, you fucking asshole.'_ "

 

Everyone cracks up, including Tony. He notices that Steve looks like he wants to throw himself into oncoming traffic.

 

"Calm down, Steve. I think it's cute."

"The other guy didn't. He couldn't even say anything before Stevie here is wailing on him. Look at his knuckles. He split them while knocking out his teeth. He is literally taking out _all_ of his frustrations on this one dude. I can't do the voice he was using, it was so dark and broody. He was like:

_'I've been on this mission for over a goddamn week. I have no way to call and let him no I'm safe. He is probably worried fucking sick. And now I can't even keep my promise to him. Did you now what was on the line for this promise? A lot. A lot was on the line. And that shield is the one thing that I have to remind me of him when I'm on missions like these. So fuck you. Fuck your goons. Fuck your illegal fucking actions. Just give the fuck up, stay the fuck down, let SHIELD take you into custody, and tell where the hell you keep your fucking escape vehicles so my injured teammates and I can get out of this fucking hellhole.'_

 

Tony raised his eyebrows even higher.

 

"That doesn't sound like the Steve I know."

"Don't believe me? Look at his hands."

 

Tony did look at his hands, and sure enough, the knuckles were wrapped with gauze.

 

"Wow."

"He's probably going to get an excessive force disciplinary once he's out of here."

"All of this over a shield, Steve? I could have made you a new one."

 

He pouted with a vengeance.

 

"I didn't want a new one. I like that one. It's very effective, and I know how to use it."

"Pretty sure that's not how you use it-"

"Tony, I get it-"

"Alright, everyone. This get-together has been a blast, but the injured need to rest."

"Awww...but Bruuuuciiee..."

"No, Tony."

"I thought we were Science Bros."

"We are. And Science Bros make sure Science Bros' boyfriends stay in tip-top shape. Now come on. Everyone who's not bleeding and/or has stitches, out."

 Jane leaned over to kiss Thor's forehead, before leaving with Darcy. Nat and Bucky gave Clint and Steve hugs, and left. Tony was about to do like Jane and kiss Steve's forehead, but Steve shook his head.

 

"You promised."

"What?"

"You said I could have a _real_ kiss after I was patched up. I'm patched up, see?"

"Oh my gosh. Are you four?"

"If I say yes will you kiss me already?"

 

Tony snorted before leaning over to give Steve what he wanted. He broke it off before it could get to heated though, and Steve pouted.

 

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Why do you keep making me be the responsible one?"

"I swear Tony, when I get out of here you and I are going to share a _real_ kiss. You owe me one."

"Fine. Fine. Don't throw your shield at me."

"IT WAS EFFECTIVE."

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MADE IT FOR."

\--------

 

The wonder boys only had to stay one night for observation, so they were back in the Commons for breakfast. Clint was benched, as he had eight stiches on his right shin (he still refused crutches). Thor was back to normal, if you ignored the bandages. Steve had three stiches above his left eyebrow, and gauze wrapped around his forearm where a goon got lucky and stabbed through his suit. It was nice to just sit there with all of them. They had welcomed Bruce into the folds, with him and Tony being 'Science Bros.' (Steve may or may not have felt some irrational jealousy every time Tony gives Bruce a 'bro-hug'; it looked an awful like a real hug to him). Since Jane was a un-official 'Science Sis', she sat with them as well, so then that brought Thor and Darcy. They had put two tables together to make an enormous table, and they did it so often that whoever moves the tables back to their original position just left them that way.

 

"So. There's a battle royale going down tonight. Since I can't participate, I nominate Stark to take my place."

"Whoa. Wait. Aren't those like hella against the rules?"

"Well, duh. But winner gets prizes."

"What kind of prizes?"

"Glory. Fame. Honor-"

"The prizes that _matter,_ Merida."

"Heathen. This week everyone plays for everyone else's dessert vouchers."

"Wait. They willingly put their chances at the dessert table into a betting pool and fight for them?"

"Yes. Yes they do."

"Like hell I'm doing that-"

"You won't be using _your_ vouchers, Stark. You'll be using mine."

"If I win, I want half of the pot."

"Deal."

 

They shook hands as Steve looked on in horror.

 

"Tony, no. That's against regulation-"

"I'll be fine Steve. Besides, I know you've been saving up for that apple-blueberry pie. Are you willing to let someone else snatch it up instead?"

 

Steve narrowed his eyes.

 

"Fine. Do as you want."

"I plan to."

\-------

 

It was a Saturday night, and the Training Hall was filled with people who didn't give a damn about consequences.

 

Tony looked around him in barely concealed shock. How did he not know this was happening? Damn near everyone he knew was here! Every bleacher was packed. And in the center of it all was the prize.

 

A huge box filled with what had to be fifty dessert vouchers.

 

Tony crunched Clint's in his hand. That many people were fighting? Jesus, didn't anyone have homework in this bitch?

 

He looked over the roster for tonight. It was tournament style, so if he won enough consecutive matches, he won the battle royale. Seemed simple enough. He had seen most of these people during class, so he wasn't surprised to see anyone-

 

STEVE?!

 

His head snapped up. Sure enough, there was a blonde head attached to broad shoulders attached to one smug son-of-a-bitch. He ground his teeth. Stomping over to Steve, he whacked him on the shoulder.

 

"STEVE? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Oh, hi Tony. I'm competing, isn't it obvious?"

"You're injured!"

"Bruce gave me a clean bill of health."

"W-what the _fuck, really-"_

"What's wrong, sweetie? Afraid you'll lose?"

 

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

 

"I can wipe the floor with you, Rogers."

"I look forward to it. Oh, and Tony?"

"Yeah, asshole?"

"When I win, I want my real kiss. In front of everyone."

 

Tony could feel his stomach drop. That sneaky son-of-a-bitch.

 

"Well, when _I_ win, I hope you have a good imagination, because you be getting anything from me for a _month."_

 

Steve's smirk dropped to the floor.

 

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. You get nothing unless I start it. And I won't be starting _shit."_

 

Steve narrowed his eyes.

 

"Well, we'll see then."

"We will. That pie is mine. And I'm not sharing."

"You don't even _like_ pie-"

"I know. I just don't want you to have it."

"Tony."

"Good luck, Stevie Wonder!"

\---------

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Steve's POV-**

 

Steve didn't really need to win anyway.

 

He didn't even know why he was there.

 

But, for some reason, the thought of Tony facing off against all of these people without backup made his skin crawl. He knew Tony wou;d beat him for saying something like that, and he knew he could take care of himself. But...

 

He'd been to these fights like these before.

 

He's been _in_ fights like these fights before.

 

Tony wasn't aware of it, and he hoped it stayed that way. In Tony's eyes he was chivalrous, and just, and fair. But deep down, he was a fighter. His mother always would tell him when he was younger:

 

_"Oooh, just you wait, honey. One day your body'll catch up to that spirit of yours. And when it does, all the bullies in the world better look out."_

_"I'm going to be big and strong, Ma. Just you watch me!"_

 

While he was at GROOT, his Ma's prediction came true. And that was the day when Steve learned that deep down, he wasn't as pure and innocent as he seemed. They regularly had anti-reg fights there, too. And Steve knew why they were anti-reg; there were no rules, there was no mercy, and people got hurt every time one started. He was ashamed at himself when looking back on it. But everyone who had laid a hand on him, who had spat at him, who had harassed him; he could show them all. And show them all he did. But it wasn't until one match that he stopped.

 

It was a standard match- beat them or get beaten. He was wrapping his knuckles when he saw who he was fighting. His jaw dropped.

 

"Darien Harensen?"

"Yeah. What?"

 

He felt the first tendrils of rage long buried rise in him.

 

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"I've seen you around the base, sure. Don't know you though. You gotta name?"

"I don't believe it. Pieces of shit like you actually made it in here."

"Hey, asshole. Are we going to fight or what?"

_"Hey, everyone. Look at the little fag."_

 

His eyes had gotten wide, and his eyes frantically searched for what his brain wouldn't accept.

 

_"What's wrong, fag? You gonna cry to Ma, again?"_

 

"W-what, h-how do you-"

_"You'll never get any larger than this, you little fag. **I'll** always be bigger, and I'll always have **you** to beat the shit out of when I'm bored."_

"It's not...it can't... _Rogers?"_

"In the flesh, asshole."

 

And he had launched himself at him.

 

It had been hilarious to others at first. His opponent had seemingly said 'screw this' and was running around the ring, trying not to get hit at all. Steve had been chasing him like a bull in a china shop, swinging and hitting everything in a blind rampage. But then Harensen tripped, and Steve had his chance. He let his feelings control him, the years of despair, humiliation, anger, _fury..._

 

Before he knew it, they were trying and failing to pull him off, but to no success. Hitting him should have made him feel better, but it didn't. Because with every punch, with every swing, he just got angrier, and angrier, _and angrier;_ he probably could have killed him and he would have beat up his corpse out of spite.

 

"Enough."

 

All eyes (including his) snapped to the door. One of the psychiatrists, Dr. Erskine, was standing there next to Dean Coulson with a tight expression.

 

"Let him up, Rogers."

"It's over, Steven."

 

He had gotten off of him, and was horrified at what he'd done. His face was a _mess._ He was _unconscious._ He was battered, bruised, and broken. Some guards had to come lift him out of the ring. 

 

_He wasn't coming back._

 

He had done this. He had used his size, his power, to hurt someone else.

 

_He was a bully._

 

And that's when he'd passed out.

\----

 

After that incident (and the following panic attacks), he was sent to see Dr. Erskine on a weekly basis. He didn't think that they'd choose someone who needed so much assistance, but they did. And he had sworn to Dr. Erskine that he would never again use his newfound strength for vengeance, selfishness, or dominance. But he had been feeling shaky. When that criminal had thrown his shield off the side of the railing, he had felt his blood run cold as ice. But then he felt those familiar flickers of anger, and he tried to keep his temper under control, he really did. But then he had a thought.

 

_The goon wasn't innocent, though was he?_

 

And so he'd given into the rage, the frustration. It had hurt his knuckles, but it cleared his mind. Erskine said he should've been a soldier. That they would have appreciated his... _unique roots._ Steve guessed that Field Operative was as close to soldier as he was going to get.

 

But the thought that there could be someone like him lurking in this crowd of people, about to fight Tony, made him antsy. And when he was antsy, something usually went wrong. His intuition was a bitch like that.

 

So he fought. He had missed the feeling of conquering someone; of proving yourself. He didn't really spar with people anymore. He was glad he was still good at it. And Tony was being his usually wily self, sassing the hell out of people until they got so frustrated they lost all sense of strategy. It was...pretty hot to watch, actually.

 

Oh, God. He was a pervert.

 

He was mentally slapping himself when the first explosion went off.

\------

 

Everyone was yelling and screaming, all trying to rush out of the training hall at once. Then a second one went off in the main hall. The smoke, the alarms, and the screams all combined to form mass hysteria. He couldn't find Tony in the chaos. He saw Bucky and Nat, and Thor was carrying Jane on his shoulders, as blood was dripping down her leg. People were all trying to find somewhere to hide, and Steve was having a heart attack. Where the hell was Tony?

 

And then a streak of red and gold flew by.

 

It kicked up dust and debris in its wake, causing people to duck and cover. A high-pitched whine followed it as it maneuvered its way through the building. After about three minutes, it flew past again, out the hangar door, and into the sky. It threw an armful of something, and had barely traveled a foot before what was obviously the rest of the bombs detonated. The force threw off its balance, and it plummeted down towards the ground. It stabilized at the last moment, but still suffered a hard landing.

 

Steve noticed a lone figure running towards an aircraft, and grabbed the shield off of his back (he took it everywhere now). With one hard fling, it sailed through the air and hit the perp square in the back of the head. While faculty was busy trying to raise the unconscious man from the ground, he noticed that the metal flying contraption wasn't down for the count. It got to its...feet...with a little difficulty. It was actually a giant, red-and-gold _robot._ Steve raised the shield in warning when it turned towards him, but then the faceplate snapped upwards.

 

 _"Tony?"  
_ "Hey, Steve. Aaaww, fuck. I _just finished_ the new paint job. Asshole _had_ to go and set off bombs. Fucker."

" _Tony. You are in a flying suit of armor."_

"Ding ding ding! Ten points to Steve! Yes. Yes, I am."

_"Why?"_

"Because I built it."

_"...Why?"_

"Why do I ever do anything? I wanted to. You know, impulse issues and all that clinical shit. And before you pass out, let's answer the real question here."

"And that would be..."

"How much trouble am I going to get in for this?"

\------

 

The answer was a lot. A lot of trouble.

 

They had been getting debriefed (yelled at) for over an hour. And since Tony showed no signs of being cooperative, they might be there for the rest of the day.

 

"STARK. For the last goddamn time, I want the schematics for that weapon of yours!"

"Well, Fury. For the last goddamn time, over my dead body!"

 

Director Fury had given him a 'that-can-be-arranged' look.

 

"You used SHIELD Academy's labs to design that damn thing. That makes it SHIELD property."

"Actually, Fury, I had the designs since I was twelve. Your labs, however inadequate, helped me put the finishing touches on it."

"Stark Industries has a contract with SHIELD, and since you used your father's technology-"

 

Bad move.

 

He put his hand over Tony's in an attempt to calm him. He had gotten that malicious face he formed whenever someone compared him to Howard.

 

"Fuck you, Fury. Howard's 'designs' were the barest-of-barely sketches. _I_ redesigned them. _I_ built the prototypes. The power source, the repulsors, the suit itself, the AI in it, theY are _all mine. MY NAME IS ON THE PATENTS._ AND IF YOU THINK, FOR ONE SECOND, THAT YOU'RE GOING TO WEASEL YOUR WAY INTO MY PLANS USING MY ASSHOLE FATHER'S DIRTY-ASS, DOUBLE-DEALING COMPANY I WILL-"

 

Steve placed a hand over Tony's mouth.

 

"Breathe, sweetie. _Breathe._ That's it. In and out."

 

He could feel Tony calm under his touch, and once he had softened, he wrapped his arms around him. The small, wet spot on his neck and Tony's panicked "they're _mine"_ and "you can't have them" were enough to level a glare so sharp at Fury he was surprised it didn't gut him.

 

"Alright, alright, fine. But Steven, you're rational, at least let us analyze the shield-"

"No. Tony made this for _me._ It's a gift from him that only _I_ intend to use."

 

Fury looked about ready to blow a gasket.

 

"Fine. FINE. We don't have time for this shit. Since you two are the only ones with these tools, welcome into the fold."

 

He leaned over the table, and his face had gone dark and stone-like. Tony had finished his mini-panic attack, and was looking at him like nothing had happened (he had learned to get used to Tony's sudden shifts in temperament. Tony told him that he found him to be a safe place to let his wounds bleed for a bit and let out some of his internal turmoil while he stitched the wound up again, and he was proud of that). Steve's attention was held as well.

 

"What do you boys know about Hydra?"

\-------

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Tony** **POV-**

 

 

Hydra? Tony had heard of them, sort of. They were rumored to be a group of rich-kids who loved to cause mayhem. As a fellow (richest of the) rich kid, he had received an invitation. But, despite all of the shitty decisions he had made in his short life, joining them was not one of them. And from the look on Steve's face, he was even more glad he hadn't.

 

"Yeah, I know them."

 

He had all but snarled the words, disgust clearly written across every muscle. Tony laid a concerned hand on his bicep, and Fury raised an eyebrow.

 

"Oh, really? How so?"

"Don't give me that look, Director. I would never tangle myself with those...those... _sons of a two-legged bitches."_

"Why the hostility, then?"

"Because they preyed on people like us. They took desperate young people, who only wanted a better life, and placed them on the front lines like pawns. They promised them the world, if they just did something for them, and they...they were led like donkeys chasing carrots."

"Well, they've escalated quite a bit from your standard peer pressure-"

"It wasn't just fucking _peer pressure-"_

"-And into something a lot like terrorism."

 

That snapped Steve and Tony to attention.

 

"Terrorists. You're saying that bunch of spoiled rich heirs whose favorite activities are getting shit-faced in the back of Mommy's limo and having sex with girls who'll ignore their small penises because of their shit-ton of money-"

"Stark-"

"Have become a threat to the free world? When and how the _fuck_ did _that_ happen?"

"It appears that their co-leader, Justin Hammer-"

"Fuck, I've always hated that tacky asshole-"

"Has signed a 'deal with the devil' with the founder, one Johann Schmidt."

 

A loud crack was heard, and they both turned to look over at Steve. He had been taking notes like a good little schoolboy, but at the mention of Schmidt, he had snapped the pen he was holding almost in half. It almost would have comical if it wasn't for the look on Steve's face. This wasn't the red-faced look of disdain, or the strong-set jaw look of defiance; this was a pale-faced, steely-eyed, expressionless stare that still somehow managed to convey pure rage. Steve spoke in a small voice, but he may as well have been screaming.

 

"Did you say...Johann Schmidt?"

"Yes, Rogers. Johann Schmidt, age 45. After a fight with another group that literally went up in smoke, Schmidt was left with third degree burns across multiple areas, especially his face. He was sentenced to fifteen years in prison, but spent three of those in a psychiatric facility once he started spouting plans to destroy everyone and everything that stood in the way of total control of his territory. He was let out after he quieted down, but soon enough Hydra got active again. We tried to pin him down again, but the bastard got smarter this time, and stayed firmly in the shadows where no amount of digging could drag him out."

"And now...he's leading a group of terrorists?"

"Right again. Apparently, he decided his territory wasn't big enough to sustain his plans, so he started calling on some stupid rich kids who'd throw money at him and his promises of power and regality. And then _those_ fucking kids started recruiting _more_ fucking kids, and now it's turned into an absolute  _clusterfuck._ A clusterfuck that apparently is serious enough to be considered a threat."

 

 _Of course_ the future owners of future Fortune 500 companies would unknowingly join a group of terrorists. But he was more worried about Steve. Between the puppy-dog looks and the Boy Scout personality, it was easy to forget Steve's sheer size and strength. But looking at that face, it was clear that this man could do some major damage.

 

Is it bad that he found that look hot?

 

Should he even be thinking that right now?

 

Fuck it. He wasn't sorry for either.

 

"So you want _us,_ to take on the head of an enormous mob of fucking terrorists? I'm confident, not suicidal, Fury."

"Of course, you won't be going in alone. We've assembled a team for you two as back up. The best of the best."

\------

 

"You have _got_ to be shitting me."

"Read it and weep, Stark."

"How did _you_ get on this team, Legolas?"

"I never miss. Any weapon anyone handed me I could fire with perfect accuracy. Obviously Fury found it useful."

" _Obviously."_

"Fuck you, my uniform says it loud and proud, asshole."

 

It was true. Clint, Natasha, Bucky, Thor, and _Bruce_ had walked through that door, all sporting new uniforms with the 'Special Circumstance' label on the right breast.

 

"But the label _is_ useful. Much fewer regulations on what we can and cannot do in the field. Now we don't have to worry as much about what state we bring the suspects back in."

 

Natasha accepted a high-five from Bucky.

 

"You guys are scary. Like, really fucking terrifying. But Bruce, no offense?"

"I'm here as research and a medic."

"Sweet! Science Bros!"

"Science Bros."

"Thor, how's Jane doing?"

"She is fine, my friend. Though I am saddened to be leaving her, she understands my responsibility that comes with my position."

"All right."

 

Tony pulled a suitcase out of his locker, and pulled on some sunglasses.

 

"Well, anyway. Since we are now officially on a life-threatening operation, I gave Fury some demands. The first was that we get to leave this hell-hole, and move into a much cooler home base."

"Wait, what?"

"Just go pack up whatever's important, snookums, and meet me at the main elevator."

\-------

 

After everyone had packed up what they considered valuable, they followed Tony out of the compound.

 

"Tony, where are we-"

"Shhh. Get in the SUV."

"What...SUV..."

 

In the parking lot was a large, expensive-looking SUV. It was a matte-black, and looked like pure power.

 

"Holy shit."

"Get in, Merida. Everyone else too."

\------

 

"So where exactly is this, 'cooler home base'?"

"Natasha, are you doubting me? I sense doubt and it hurts my feelings."

"Knowing Stark, it's probably the Playboy Mansion."

"Or a strip club."

"Or a sorority house."

"Ha-fucking-ha. While those would admittedly make great home bases, this one is even cooler. My comrades, welcome to Stark Tower."

"Woah."

"Jesus."

"Shit..."

"Alright then."

"Impressive."

"Quite amazing, friend Anthony!"

"Yep. Everyone gets their own floor-penthouse is mine, Hawkass, don't you fucking dare-, which is equipped with a kitchen, bathroom, and living room. There's an enormous communal gym, as well as several smaller gyms I will suit up to holy hell for your specific needs. Living room, garage, my workshop; its all here. Wifi, food, and utilities are yours to use at your disposal as long as you're part of the team. Oh, and I have an AI named Jarvis; he runs the house and he talks, so don't freak out. And don't compare him to Siri, he'll be offended and make your showers cold for the foreseeable future."

"This...is going to be so fucking epic. You know what? Since we're a team, we need a name."

"A name? Really Hawkass?"

"Yeah. We can't keep referring to us as 'us'. We're on an op now. All op teams have names. Mine and Natasha's was Strike Team Delta. So what's ours' going to be?"

"I don't know, actually."

"It should sound powerful!"

"Yeah, but still low to the ground."

 

Steve gave a determined nod.

 

"Hey. We're facing off against Schmidt, AKA the Red Skull, right?"

"Yeah."

"And his organization harmed some of ours, right?"

"That it did."

"He dared harm my lady Jane! He shall pay for his transgressions!"

"You're right, Thor. So, we're avenging the innocent, right?"

"Yep. What are you getting at, Steve?"

"Well, what about the Avengers?"

"...It _does_ have a ring to it."

 

They all nodded in agreement. Tony smirked.

 

"Well, if no one has any objections, we're the Avengers. Let's start this general assembly."

 

Steve gave a victorious grin.

 

"You know what? That _also_ has a ring to it."

"Steve. Really?"

"Yep."

 

He put his fist out into the middle between the two rows of seats.

 

"Avengers! Assemble!"

 

Everyone snickered, but put their hands in anyway.

 

"Hey, does it make this Avengers Tower?"

"...You know what? Fine. Since I will be forced to come into contact with you everyday asshole, and I know you'll call it that anyway, fuck it. It's not worth it. Welcome to _Avengers_ Tower."

\-------

 

After they (mostly Steve) set some basic rules (including some really no fun ones, no experiments without safety protocols? Really, Steve?), They all set to work unpacking. Steve had the floor below Tony's. Clint was after Steve, followed by Natasha, Bucky, Bruce, and Thor in that order. Every room had a Starkpad and phone to "replace that piece of absolute _shit_ SHIELD gave you". Since it was kind-of late, and they had just had a bomb (also a literal one) dropped on them, they all decided to turn in. At least, all but Steve and Tony.

 

"Steve, can I talk to you?"

 

Steve got a sort of hunted look on his face.

 

"S-sure."

"It's kind of important. I know I'm shit at feelings, but, Steve, are you okay?"

"Of course I am."

"Steve."

 

Steve seemed to wilt like a puppet with its strings cut.

 

"I'm...I'm kind of not, Tony."

"What's wrong?"

"That fire, the one that burnt Schmidt severely?"

"Yeah?"

"It...it killed almost a hundred other people."

 

Tony didn't know what to say, so he just let Steve continue.

 

"And most of them were my age. I had tried to warn them, but of course, who wanted to listen to little ol' me? They thought I was just jealous that I was too weak to be included. They all ignored me, and most of them died. I just can't help thinking about what I could have done to make them stay away."

"You couldn't of done anything."

 

Steve looked at Tony with a sort of hurt look on his face.

 

"Damnit, Steve. It doesn't matter if you were ten feet tall. It was their choice. Yes, what happened to them was tragic. But everyone there had made their choice."

"But-"

"But nothing, Steve! Yes, they were latching on to a hope for a better life. But you were fighting for one to. You probably had twice their struggles, but you refused to take the bait. That means they could have to. But I'm cynical. I've seen my fair share of the rich and famous. Most didn't want to work for what they had. All of us heirs just partied it up, knowing that our futures were paved in gold. But look at them now. They would have had an amazing life, a life anyone would have dreamed of. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't for my father, and it wasn't enough for them. It will _never_ be enough. And until I joined SHIELD Academy, I was one of them."

"Tony, you'd never be one of them."

"Yes, Steve, I would. Sex, booze, and partying, that's all I cared about. I utterly did not give a shit. Hell, I only attended this school as a middle finger to my father."

"Tony-"

"But then I saw other people who wanted to be _true heroes._ People who wanted to make a difference. And I realized, I wanted to be one of them. I'm probably pretty shitty at it, but it's the thought that counts, I guess-"

 

An then Steve was kissing him. It was hard and bruising, but very, very, delicious. They broke apart for air, and Steve gave Tony a stern look.

 

"Don't you **_dare_** sell yourself that short, Tony. You've signed up for probably _the_ most dangerous mission a rookie's been sent on. You've revolutionized engineering. You've placed a burden on yourself that most wouldn't even consider. You **_are_** a hero. Don't let anyone, not even yourself, say otherwise."

 

Tony would deny it to his grave that he cried, but Steve wiped a thumb across his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

 

"Now then. Since our little wager was rudely interrupted, when do I get my real kiss?"

 

Tony snickered.

 

"You are like a dog with a goddamn bone, Rogers."

"Can't help it, I'm gone over you."

"You are so sappy it hurts. C'mere you."

 

Any talking that might have taken place was put off indefinitely. Steve's lips were soft, yet firm, and they both seemed to sigh in content. This was in fact, a real kiss. Or to be more accurate, a series of kisses spaced vey close together (he didn't have the lung capacity Steve had, geez). It wasn't the neatest or most experienced make-out session Tony had ever had, but it was by far the sweetest. It didn't have the hurried sloppiness of a one-night stand. No, Steve kissed gently yet earnestly, as if they had all the time in the world. It wasn't desperate pawing. No, Steve only ran his hands up and down along his sides.

 

Wait, when had they gotten horizontal?

 

And why did he care?

 

Tony indeed threw those thoughts away in favor of wrapping his arms around Steve's neck, and his legs around Steve's hips. He increased the pressure of the kiss, and rolled his hips in a teasing, playful way. Steve obviously wasn't expecting it, so he let out a sort of yelp which almost instantly dissolved into a moan was doing wonderful things to Tony's libido. Tongues were being shoved down throats and hands were wandering underneath shirts, and it looked like they were going to hit a home run right on this couch, and Tony was alright with that-

 

"ACK! COME ON, DUDES! WE ALL HAVE TO SIT ON THAT DAMN COUCH, AND WE HAVE NO DESIRE TO WATCH YOU GO AT IT!"

 

-But Clint was not.

 

Fucking cockblock.

 

"I agree with Clint. That looks like the most comfortable fucking couch, and I refuse to let that become a literal fucking couch."

 

And helllooo cockblock number two.

 

"Wow. You guys sure no how to ruin a fella's fun. Now I can't show Steve what a real, _real_ kiss is."

 

Steve (who had been hiding his face in Tony's neck in pure humiliation, perked up at.

 

In more ways than one.

 

Yes, he went there.

 

Tony wriggled his way from under Steve, glad that his restraint was mostly intact (hey, you try getting it on with the peak of human perfection and not get turned on at least a little) and started sauntering towards the elevator. He could hear Clint's smug voice.

 

"Rogers, if that's not an open invitation I don't know what is. Go get laid."

 

And get laid he did. Multiple times.


	11. Chapter 11

**Steve's POV-**

 

This was one of the few days that Steve really didn't want to get out of bed.

 

It had taken him far longer to snap out of the waking-up fog then usual. And when he did, he chose to roll over instead of sit up. Laying on his back, he let out a content sigh and looked over to the side. Tony was laying on his side, hair everywhere, drooling slightly, and snoring softly. To anyone else, it might have looked rather unattractive. But because he really liked Tony and was therefor _extremely_ biased, he found it adorable. His face was more relaxed, and he lost most of the tenseness in his body that he constantly carried around.

 

He looked younger, and more relaxed than he ever could be when awake.

 

Tony was a year younger than him, but he looked older. His face was sharp, all cutting edges and inner sarcasm. But his eyes were expressive. He gave off an air of arrogance, and when you matched that with his genius and cutting wit, most people just shied away from him. But Steve saw his soul through his eyes; Steve saw that deep down was a hardened spirit. It was always on the lookout for potential threats, and he distracted people from it by cutting them, hurting them before they could hurt him. Steve rolled back over and hugged Tony, squeezing his waist. Tony didn't wake, merely giving a grumble and burying himself further into the pillow. Well, he was just going to have to stand beside him, and take some blows so he could breathe, even if only for a little while.

 

"Good Morning, Mr. Rogers."

"Morning, Jarvis. What time is it?"

"5:38, sir. It is currently 52 degrees outside, with a slight breeze. The sunrise is approximately two hours away."

"Oh. I should go for my morning run, then."

 

He reluctantly sat up, stretching as he did so. He normally woke up to use the training hall before any of the other recruits. But since he was in Stark, no _Avengers,_ Tower, he could go for a run whenever he pleased. But no. He had to stay disciplined. He had barely swung a leg over the side of the bed when Tony (who was still three-quarters asleep) wiggled his way to Steve's side and wrapped his arms around his middle.

 

"Noooo...Steve.Yer' warm. Don' go. Stay."

 

And if he laid back down (and relished in Tony pleased snuffle), then five more minutes couldn't hurt, could it?

\--------

 

He came back to total chaos.

 

No, scratch that.

 

He came back, and _then_ it broke into total chaos.

 

Steve stood in the doorway, gaping. In the common area, Tony and Natasha were holding coffee mugs like they held the secrets of the universe. Clint and Bucky had come in, and that's when it started. Clint perked up when he smelled coffee, as did Bucky. They saw the opportunity to just have some right then and there. Before Steve could scream 'no' each grabbed and took a sip from one mug; Clint from Tony's and Bucky from Natasha's. Steve paled. See, people knew Natasha was horrifying. But Tony was shorter, wittier, and more snarky, so people didn't really take him as a threat. But Steve had seen Tony hand someone's ass back to them on a silver platter for much less, so he knew what was coming.

 

Tony and Natasha looked as though they hadn't registered the action yet. Well, Tony did. Natasha had more of a 'who dared' silence going on. But once they came to, all hell broke loose. Before he knew it both Clint and Bucky were face down on the carpet. Natasha had obviously been teaching that move to Tony, as he didn't do as fast or as crisp as she did (although it was still effective). The more the two boys struggled, the harder their faces were smothered.

 

"You are incredibly stupid. I thought Natasha had trained you better."

"She has! That's why I took some of yours!"

"Do you know what I was drinking, Merida? I was drinking a limited-edition South African seasonal blend. Do you know how much that costs? Of course you don't. Because your palate is limited to SHIELD cafeteria coffee and the occasional Dunkin' Donuts."

"What the hell, man? You let Nat have some!"

"Because she appreciates it. And don't ever try to touch my coffee again. I will punch out your kidneys."

"Now, Tony, don't end it that quick. Wow Clint, you must have been slacking off big time."

"I haven't! But you've been teaching him these damn- OW! Alright, damnit!"

"And you Bucky. Do you really want to die today?"

"I just wanted some damn coffee. It was just a sip-"

 

He yelped as Natasha twisted his arm back at an extremely painful looking angle.

 

"Just a sip of _my coffee_. You touch it again, I promise violence."

"Already using violence-"

 

Another yank on the arm.

 

" _More violence. Your ass will be grass and I will plant it in my windowsill."_

"Dude, I'd laugh at you if my face wasn't being smothered."

"Fuck you. I have the more experienced one."

"Because you have a death wish- _ugh."_

 

The coffee-deprived duo had moved their knees to the necks, and that was his time to intervene before someone on his team died.

 

"Alright, you two. Let 'em go. Don't give me that look, we need everyone alive or our mission won't go over that well."

 

Both of them grumbled, but lifted themselves off of their victims, grabbing their mugs and headed back to the kitchen to refill them. The other two rolled over, but soon got to their feet as well.

 

"Damn. I don't know whether to find her terrifying or hot."

"Most people choose both."

"Yeah, both are accurate. And Steve, you really picked a spitfire, that one. He's actually pretty good-looking himself- hey! Calm the angry face. I'm not going to do anything. Jesus, why don't you just piss on him and be done with it?"

 

Steve felt the blush down his neck. He _knew_ Bucky wouldn't go there. But it already seemed like a miracle that someone like Tony would pick him, so he couldn't help but get a little upset whenever someone seemed... _interested._

 

"Sorry, Buck."

"Seriously, though. I go for dames, all the way."

"I _know,_ Buck-"

"So your little infatuation is safe-"

"Can it, jerk-"

"Aww, look at my Stevie, all grown up and having sex-"

" _James."_

"Was it good? Look at your face, I guess it was-"

" _I swear-"_

"Do you have a diary filled with pictures of him?"

 

He did have a _sketchbook_ filled with pictures of him, so that comment hit a little close to home.

 

"Look how red he's getting! He does!"

"Alright, dude, he looks like he's about to blow, lay off-"

"Why? He knows I'm only teasing, don't you Steve? Hey, what's wrong-"

 

And then he charged Bucky.

\-------

 

"So. Team meeting."

Steve looked at everyone around the table. They all had showered and gotten ready after the Great Breakfast War, and were down at the table to discuss...whatever. Tony had called the meeting, so he sat at the head of the table.

 

"Anyways. Since we are all basically taking on an army of terrorists, I figured we'd need a little bit more equipment than SHIELD can give us. No, these gadgets have not been looked at by SHIELD. And if I have my way, they never will be."

 

Steve snorted. He could already see the vein in Director Fury's head throbbing.

 

"So. I've gone through the trouble and made some...gadgets if you will. First, Natasha."

 

He pushed a pair of thick bracelets attached to a pair of fingerless gloves across the table. She looked at them curiously.

 

"Ok, Stark. I get it, I'm a girl. Why the hell do I need jewelry?"

"Put them on and clench your fist."

 

She did as instructed, and raised her eyebrows when a surge of electricity crackled across them.

 

"I call them Widow's Bites. I know you prefer hand-to-hand combat, but there will be big people, and they will have guns, and this is a faster, non-lethal way to incapacitate them."

"Impressive."

"I know. Alright Legolas, you're next."

 

He slid a thin, round, black bar towards Clint.

 

"Aw. You shouldn't have darling. What is it?"

"Hold it in your hand and punch."

 

He did, and reeled back as a bow unfolded from almost nowhere.

 

"Dude, that's awesome."

"I know. I've seen you on the range with a bow and arrow a lot before, but never out on a field mission."

"Yeah. The don't really see a bow and arrow as an effective weapon. I prefer them to guns, though, actually."

"Well, shit on them. I've made a bow and arrow thrice as effective as their toughest weapon. These are the arrow heads."

"Oooh, shiny."

 

Tony held up one at time. A sharp, pointed one-"grappling hook, it deploys on contact,"-a more oval-shaped one-"gas, non-lethal,"- a rounded one- "net, just in case,"- and a multitude of blunt ones in a box-"exploding arrows. Be careful with these, got it? They range from sticky and/or small, to catastrophic, enormous, 'shoot the fuckers out of the sky' level damage. Don't get them mixed up". He slid a quiver-"press which arrow you want, it picks it out for you so you can just reach and shoot"- and the arrows over to Clint also, who looked like it was his birthday and Christmas all rolled into one destructive gift.

 

"James Buchanan Can't shut-the-fuck-up-to-save-my-life Barnes. I'm serious. You got your nose broken, and now you get punched by your best friend."

 

Bucky glared at him. His and Steve's skirmish had left Bucky with a nice bruise under one eye.

 

Steve felt guilty for not feeling guilty about it.

 

"Anyway. Since you like your guns so much, and I couldn't really figure out how to improve those without you trying to tear off my dick, I decided to just make smaller, more efficient versions of them."

 

He slid a long, gunmetal case towards Bucky. He looked at it as though it might explode, but opened it anyway. He let out a low whistle.

 

"Damn, Stark. When do you find time to sleep?"

"I don't. Steve hates it. Put it on to see if I need to make any adjustments."

 

He reached in and pulled out a long metal gauntlet. It reached from by his shoulder to his wrist. He looked to Tony for instructions, who just mimicked pulling something apart. He pulled apart the two sides, and fitted it to his arm.

 

"It's not heavy, but it feels sturdy. What's it packing?"

"Flick your arms in different directions and find out."

 

He did, and was delighted to find out that three smaller versions of his favorite guns and a knife were all packed into it.

 

"See, I couldn't get the bullets into it without making it to bulky, so the guns use repulsor energy like my suit does."

"That...is badass. I would kiss you if Steve wouldn't sock me again."

 

Steve's face burned as they all laughed.

\------

 

They had all gone to play with their new toys, Steve had hit the gym, and Bruce had joined Tony down in the lab, when JARVIS alerted them. He sounded...worried? Could AIs sound worried? Ones designed by Tony probably could. He couldn't hear the message, so it probably was for Tony. His theory was proved when Tony's voice came over the feed.

 

"Shit. Alright, guys. Um. I need you all to assemble in the Common Area. And leave your gear in your living space please. I know you probably want to know why, but it would be better to explain this in person. So...um...Avengers, assemble. _NOW."_

 

Steve's face scrunched as Tony voice raised an octave. If Tony sounded so paranoid, it must be serious. So he did as instructed and put his shield in his apartment, grabbing a fresh shirt while he was there.

 

He wasn't the first or the last there. He saw Natasha, who looked decidedly unimpressed.

 

"He probably blew something up and wants us to leave before we suffocate."

"Knowing him, that could happen. But why would he ask us to leave our gear, then?"

 

She merely shrugged and turned back towards the entrance. Bucky, then Clint, then Thor, and finally Bruce and Tony showed up. His eyebrows rose, and he's pretty sure he wasn't the only one. Tony looked...panicked.

 

His face was pale, his jaw was tight, and he stood ramrod-straight. To anyone else he would have just looked serious, but to Steve he could see the internal panic-attack going on. It seemed like Bruce could tell too, but Tony just waved him off towards the others.

 

"So. I've probably freaked you all out by collecting you in here. Now that I think about it, it might just be me."

 

A sharp-brittle laugh.

 

"But, I felt the need to warn you all. My...my....Howard and Obie are here."

 

Everyone promptly panicked.

\-------

 

It was only after everyone calmed down and sat down that Tony let them in. He looked like a soldier who knew he would be tortured but refused to give up information. He looked brave.

 

But he also looked somewhat terrified, in an anxious way.

 

The resounding 'ding' of the elevator resonated like a knife against a chalkboard. Or at least, that's what it felt like. Before he could scoop up Tony and barricade them in Tony's penthouse, they were inside.

 

And he could see why Tony hated to talk about them so much.

 

Howard came in first, looking around with and aura of bored distaste. Obidiah came in second, looking at them all with blatant contempt. He knew what they were looking at. Several college-aged 'kids', all living in one huge 'frat house'. It was written all over their faces. Tony turned and went to sit down next to Steve, who discreetly wrapped an arm around his waist, letting Tony lean on him a little.

 

"You know, Tony, when you asked for control over Stark Tower, I gave it to you to use to get you out of my hair. But I had hoped you would be useful with it. I didn't know you were planning to turn it into a club-house."

"It's not a _club-house-_ "

"Anthony. Respect your father. He's put up with too many of your... _shenanigans_ over the years."

"We- I'm not-"

"Listen, Tony. I didn't come here to crash your little 'frat party'. I came, because I got a call from the Director of Shield Academy about you."

 

All of them stiffened.

 

"And what the _fuck_ did _he_ have to say?"

"They said that you had built weapons, including a suit from _my design,_ and refused to share them like a spoiled brat."

"It's not from _your design-"_

"Whatever, Tony! I let you reject MIT to go to SHIELD Academy. Then you go _there_ and fuck up. And _then_ you come back here with some other questionable people-"

"They're not questionable-"

"And start slacking off in the tower that bears your family name! When are you going to just _stop being a fuck-up-_ "

"I AM NOT A FUCK-UP!"

 

Everyone looked shocked at the outburst. Tony had jumped to his feet, and he looked so pissed off he was shaking with tension.

 

"Now it's MY turn to speak. I call bullshit on the MIT. The Academy is known as one of _the_ best academic facilities in the _world._ The only grudge you have about SHIELD Academy is that they _wouldn't let you in."_

"How dare you-"

"MY TURN. And in your eyes, yes. I may have _fucked-up._ But my _fuck-ups_ got me put onto an elite squad of students. And these people around me, they're not _questionable._ They are the finest that goddamn school has to offer. And I am proud to be one of them."

"Anthony, stop this instant-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, OBIE."

 

Obidiah looked like he had been punched in the gut.

 

"And if you gave me this tower to 'get me out of your hair', then leave me be. Because this is _not_ a clubhouse. This is _not_ a frat-house. This is the base-of-operations of the motherfucking Avengers."

"Tony, I swear-"

"NO. Enough is enough. You listen. This is MY tower. The things I build are MY designs, not some half-ass copycats of your shitty schematics. And you can tell Fury, the next time he calls to tattle on me, that I. Do. Not. Give. A. Shit. He can cut us loose if he wants to. But he won't. _Because he needs us."_

_"Tony-"_

"I'm done with your shit, Howard. I have a world to save."

"Listen to me. I will cut you off-"

"Yeah. Alright. And how would that look? _'Stark Cuts Son Loose. Abandonment?'_ I can already see the headlines."

"You arrogant little shit-"

"Yeah. And you're a narcissistic big shit. Get the fuck out. JARVIS, show them the way."

 

He plopped back down in a deceivingly devil-may-care way. But Steve noticed how Tony held his breath, and steadfastly refused to look at the elevator. Not even caring if they saw, Steve pulled Tony's head down to towards his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around him. Pretty soon, everyone followed suit, either hugging him or resting a hand on him. Once Tony had calmed down (which could have been minutes or hours), he fell asleep. It must have taken a lot of resolve to do that, and he was exhausted. Instead of moving him, which would have woken him up, they decided to just order dinner and watch a movie downstairs.

\----

 

Steve just took in Clint and Bucky arguing quietly about what to get (they settled on pizza), what toppings to get, what movies to watch, etc. Bruce was just a calming influence in a recliner on the other side of the room, helping move things along. Thor was adamant that they get something with a lot of meat. Natasha was carding her fingers through Tony's hair (who was still napping) snapping at them to quiet down and decide on something or she would pick and get vegetarian pizza so no one else would eat and a chick-flick that even she hated but would torture them with it.

 

Steve just shook his head, told them to order a lot of pizzas (some meat-lovers, some vegetarian, some mixed, and some breadsticks), and choose an action movie. They all begrudgingly accepted his compromise, and he rolled his eyes as he sat down and pulled Tony's legs into his lap. How he wound up here, he had no clue. But even with the fact that they were all students of a secret organization's training facility, living in a tower in New York, and from so many different backgrounds it was ridiculous, he couldn't help but consider them a second family.

 

A wonderfully dysfunctional second family indeed.

\-----


	12. Chapter 12

**Tony’s POV:**

Despite his emotional outburst earlier that week, Tony did not in fact roll up in a corner and die. He may have wanted to, but he felt he should be rewarded for not doing so. It took a lot of willpower.

 

Although, now that he looks at the current situation, he wonders if he made a mistake by not finishing himself off while he had the chance.

 

Said situation includes barreling down corridors (not hallways, fucking corridors) of one of a known terrorist’s secret lairs in his newly upgraded Iron Man (“shut up, Clint, it’s a fucking awesome name”) armor at break-neck speeds, while being fired at by goons in thick, black, nasty-looking uniforms, while making sure that his new roomies don’t, well, die.

“Thanks for the catch, Iron Ass, but I had it under control.”

“It’s Iron _Man_ , and don’t give me that shit, you would’ve broken your fool neck, and then Coulson would taze my ass for letting you die.”

“We’re not like that-“

“The hell you aren’t-“

“ _Chatter._ ”

“Lay off, Cap-“

 

He was about to finish his extremely witty, Ravenclaw worthy come-back when he remembered that he was being fired at and now wasn’t the time for flirting/fighting. He dropped Clint in an area that he would have clear shots, and went back to repulsoring the hell out of the hostiles.

 

“I’ve got twelve under my belt!”

“Suck it, Barton! I’ve got nineteen!”

“You’re both weak and disgraceful. I just broke up a cluster giving me a whopping thirty-two.”

“I call BS-“

“Chatter. And I believe it. I’m at twenty-eight.”

“I can’t believe you two are human. I refuse to believe it. Science would never accidently make someone that badass. I clocked out at  
twenty-one a few minutes ago. Natasha picks take-out tonight.”

“Damn straight. I’ve got a craving for some Italian from that one little joint-“

“You mean the one that almost got blown up last week?”

“That would be the one.”

“Aww…I wanted tacos!”

“Too bad.”

“You know the rules, Clint.”

“Iron Man reporting. I found the central room. The generators right there. I’m going to try to shut it down.”

“Copy that, Iron Man. And Clint, stop whining. You love Italian.”

“Of course I do! But that’s not what I was craving tonight-“

“What are you, pregnant?”

“Fuck you, Iron Ass!”

“Okay one, you wish, and two, I’m spoken for- _shit._ ”

“What the hell happened, Iron Man?”

“I got it under control, Winter Soldier. Okay, wait, wait, _nope, shit, goddamnit._ Hey guys, I just pulled something out of something else, and I’m not sure how well this is going to go down.”

“Iron Man, status?”

“Shit…shit…shit…there. Wait. Nope, that’s not good, everybody out, now!”

“Iron Man?!”

“I detest her music, Cap, but to quote Ke$ha, this place about to-”  
\--------------

“Do any of you fuckers want to explain this again?”

“Not really. Do we have a choice?”

 

Fury looked about ready to strangle one or all of them (probably not Natasha or Bucky, they might put up a fight). They were all fresh off of the mission, gathered in one of the debriefing rooms to, well, debrief.

 

They were all tired, hungry, and covered in rubble, though some were in better shape than others. Steve had pushed his cowl back, hair stiff with sweat and sporting a nasty looking bruise on his right cheek where a punk had gotten lucky with the butt of a gun. Clint and Bucky had shallow cuts all over. Natasha had been grazed by a stray bullet in her left shoulder, but looked no worse for it. Thor was mostly unscathed, but certainly the filthiest. Having found a large mallet in one of the rooms they were searching, he had proceeded to swing it around as a blunt force weapon when they had to face their foes. Since the lair they were infiltrating no longer stood, he had decided to keep the damn heavy thing. Tony himself wasn’t impressed with Fury’s yelling, as he had a splitting headache from the flash of the explosion, the deafening roar, and the unfortunate smack against the wall that had come of it. And since that generator was hooked up to the power lines that ran the rest of the damn place, he had had to haul ass in the dark as the chain of explosions brought the whole fucking place down.

 

“Look, Fury. We went in, we found the central room, we fought people, we gathered people for you to go CIA or whatever on, and then the fucking place blew itself to fucking sky high. We are all tired and hungry, and it’s movie night.”

“Movie night?! There is a national crisis going on and you motherfuckers-“

“Are team bonding? Yes, we are sir. To be frank, we’ve had to deal with Howard Stark only a few days ago. I don’t think any of us can handle you right now. We all need to sleep. We’ll debrief when we’re clean and well-rested. Sir.”

 

Tony snickered to himself. It was a little known fact that Steve was a stubborn asshole. A lovable one, but one nonetheless. He did an awesome job of hiding it usually, but when he was tired, he rapidly lost all of his fucks.

 

After that dismissal, the rest of the team had piled into the Quinjet (his own design that he had been working on since he got to SHIELD Academy; he had gutted one of their own aircraft to build it) to head to head back to the tower. Tony flew in lazy loops back, and landed on the balcony of his penthouse, letting the machines disassemble his suit. After showering (he had gravel in places gravel should never be), he pulled on his comfiest sweats and one of Steve’s workout shirts and headed to the communal area. The pasta had already arrived, and they had all gathered to watch The Harry Potter series of movies, seeing as how Steve and Bucky had never seen one, a fact that Tony had almost sobbed over.

 

“So these Houses…”

“Are separated by the key personality traits.”

“That’s right, Stevie Wonder, Blizzard. Each of the four Houses have a trait that sets them aside from the others. Steve, you’d most likely be in Gryffindor with Thor over there-“

“Aye! This mighty house stands upon bravery, loyalty, and honor! All true makings of a fine warrior!”

“Or in Hufflepuff with Hawkass.”

“Stop hating, Stark. We’re chill as fuck, and are awesome friends.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Merida. The only reason I’m even hinting that Steve could belong there is because he’d probably kill himself  
before he hurts any of his friends, family, or hell, anyone really.”

“Where are you?”

“I, Steven, am in the most awesome house ever: Ravenclaw. I reside there with Bruce and all the other extremely intelligent, clever, and overall superior students. Science Bros, bitch.”

 

He and Bruce exchanged a high-five.

 

“Anyway, you, Barnes, obviously belong in the not-as-clever-or-cunning but by far the sneakiest House: Slytherin. You’ll be rooming with the ever-so-deadly Romanov over there.”

“Sounds like a party.”

“I would swear that you, Romanov, and Barton are in some odd super-spy threesome, but Barton’s gone over Agent Agent-“

“His name is _Phil,_ asshat-“

“His name is Agent, and what House would he be in, anyway?”

“Gryffindor.”

 

Everyone looked at Clint with varying degrees of humor at his blurted answer.

 

“Why, Merida, you seem like you’ve thought of this before.”

 

No one blinked an eye when Clint jumped off of the back of the couch to tackle Tony, resulting in wrestling match of epic proportions. They did, however, when Tony let out a rather emasculating squeal. Tony looked like a deer in headlights for a few moments, before he tried to disentangle himself with a vengeance. Clint was having none of it, and jabbed a finger into his side again, yielding the same result.

 

Tony tried in vain to keep it in, but he couldn’t. He broke out into shrieks of laughter as Clint assaulted his sides.

 

“STEVE! SA-AH! AHAHA! _SA-HAVE ME!_ "

 

Steve sighed and kicked Clint off with a little force, before helping Tony up. They then proceeded to finish their dinner, watch the movies, and head to bed.

\-------------

The blare of the alarm woke everyone up a few hours later, dragging everyone out of peaceful slumber, into their gear, and aboard the Quinjet, en route to France.

 

“What the fuck are we doing at three in the morning?”

“Hydra movement. Shut up and get ready.”

“It’s so fucking early. We better fucking get some pastries after this.”

 

It turned out that Hydra was a little more serious than they gave them credit for. What met them were-

 

Explosive snakes?

 

Tony felt like banging his head against something. These things weren’t even really threatening, weren’t very big, they just…exploded if you hit them. They had found this out when Thor had been knocked off his feet after striking one. This whole fucking experience was ridiculous.

 

Giant snails.

 

Exploding snakes (again).

 

Mutant cats and dogs.

 

Deadly _unicorns_. What the fucking _fuck._

\--------------

They had come to the conclusion that they were experimenting on animals before humans, but for what they had no idea. All of their creations were rabid, feral, kind of stupid monsters. Tony leaned his head on the table and groaned. He was entering hour forty-two of sleeplessness. But the newest version of his armor still had some kinks to work out, so.

 

No sleeping.

 

“Tony."

 

Shit.

 

“Tony. I know you hear me. It’s time for a shower and bed. I mean it. Now."

“You’re not the boss of-HEY!"

"Thanks, Tony.”

“No! Not thank you! Screw you! Put me down Steve! I will break up with you, I swear!”

“No, you won’t.”

“I can’t even- Put me down Steve! STEVE!”

\------

The sun rose and began to filter in through the Penthouse’s window. The two figures in bed snuggled together, still not ready to relinquish the other to the day yet.

 

“I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“You were tired.”

“You sang to me. That is cheating.”

“Hmm.”

“No, ‘hmm’. That. Is. _Cheating._ You Took advantage of my love for your voice."

 

It was true. Steve had a nice, deep voice, and combined with the low rumbling of his chest, it had knocked Tony out like a light.

 

Unfair.

 

Steve opted to kiss Tony deeply instead of responding. Tony didn’t seem to have to have any problems with that. In fact, he rather enthusiastically responded by wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It turned dirty quite quickly, getting sloppier every second. While Steve was occupied with his mouth, Tony took it upon himself to hook his leg around his waist and flip them over so that he was straddling him (without breaking the kiss, which takes skill you know).

 

"Well, good _morning,_ cowboy. Wanna go for a ride?”

 

Steve’s eyes darkened, which sent a shiver down Tony’s spine. They rustled and tumbled and had quite the fun time (they hadn’t been able to in the last few days). As they lay entangled, sweaty, but oh-so satisfied, snuggled under the sheets, Tony made a note to go to bed more often, especially if this is what he woke up to.

\-------


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY. I LOST THE ENTIRE F*CKING FILE ON MY OLD LAPTOP (DAMN BUGS), AND I HAD TO REWRITE LIKE TEN CHAPTERS WORTH OF WORK, ALONGSIDE MY OTHER STORIES AND SCHOOL AND MY DOCTOR'S VISITS. FORGIVE MEEEEE!

**Tony POV-**

\-----

The media both loved and hated them.

 

They were all the rage with the younger generation, who both praised their work and also obsessed over what their private life must be like. On the other hand, there were those 'old farts' ("Tony, no."), usually Howard's acquaintances, business partners, Fury, and Howard himself, who complained about "language", and "recklessness" and "unnecessary property damage". He had been _thrown_ through that office building, fuck you very much.

 

Also on their list of haters were, of course, Hydra. They dressed in their black leather, and had somehow acquired very, _very_ big guns. Like, enormous guns. He wanted to go in and grab one to examine it, but Steve always got this pinched look on his face when he spoke about it. He supposed sneaking into a Hydra base _was_ kind of dangerous. Steve had asked how exactly the suit worked and protected him, and he had attempted to simplify, but it was just too complicated to put in plain words. This led to Tony arguing that Steve used a goddamn _shield_ as a weapon, and that just because he was shorter and skinnier didn't make him any less capable of fighting. Steve had assured him that he though no such thing, and that he was just worried. So, yeah, he could see where one would assume that even their private lives were intense and exciting.

 

But their regular life was actually pretty damn boring compared to their action filled 'superhero' lives. It was actually as if they were regular college students. Their were arguments over food, arguments over whose turn it was to choose the movie on Movie Night, what takeout to get, arguments over the fact that Clint liked to crawl around in the _goddamn vents_ , all of it. And every Avenger had their own nasty habits.

 

Tony usually worked in his workshop until he was unresponsive, eventually venturing upstairs for whatever meal it was time for when he was done. Unfortunately, this meant that he left oil smudges on almost everything he touched. Usually Steve caught him before he got to the kitchen, but he didn't always, and the others were not pleased to see that multiple appliances (mainly the coffee maker) where covered in motor oil.

 

Clint liked to crawl around in the vents, occasionally dropping down with no warning. They had gotten somewhat used to it (it never really affected Natasha or Bucky), but it had been kind of hilarious when Clint had scared Tony and Tony had responded by instinctively punching him square in the eye.

 

Thor had a habit of breaking things. He was very strong and very enthusiastic, and some of his wider gestures led to something getting broken. He had boasted his victory over Clint in Mario Kart, and somehow managed to throw the remote against the wall. He also walked around without pants sometimes (a lot).

 

Steve's were less irritating and more... _annoying._ He rose at five o'clock _every single day._ And since they shared a bed, that meant that Tony was roused from his sleep for a moment. And he left a cold spot where his body had been (he was his personal heater, he wasn't allowed to just _leave)._ And he kept on people about "washing dishes", and "doing laundry", and "eating healthy" and other crap like that. It probably was for the best so that they didn't die of malnutrition or some sort of disease, but still, it was annoying.

 

Natasha's were unnerving. She sharpened her knives in public places. It wasn't uncommon to see her sitting cross-legged on the couch, watching a movie; the _*SHING*_ of her blades against her sharpening rod echoing through the common area. She managed to make even Bucky shuffle away slowly, deciding to hit the gym until she was done (she did it on purpose to get some peace and quiet).

 

Now Bucky's  _was_ _irritating._ He ate everyone's food. Well, except Natasha's, but he had some sort of fear of/crush on her, so that really didn't count. But everyone else's was fair game. Even the gentle giant Steve had growled out some not so nice words and slammed the fridge door shut  when he discovered his leftover Italian was missing (he had guts for that. Steve ate like, six-thousand calories a day, and could get very, very grumpy when he was hungry, and could get very,  _very_ angry when it came to his food). Speaking of eating other people's food, that was an argument this very morning. 

 

This morning was pretty much like any other morning, only Tony went from tired to irate in 3.5 when he noticed the lack of his preffered breafast.

 

"Who the hell ate my last muffin?"

 

Steve looked up from his tablet and raised an eyebrow.

 

"Someone ate it?"

"Uh, yeah. And now I am fairly pissed off, because I am muffin-less."

"...Can't you just have some cereal or something?"

"Cereal? What, you mean the Choco Marshmallow Crunch candy that Clint calls cereal?"

"Well-"

"I may as well eat some of Thor's freaking strawberry Pop-Tarts."

"Don't you like those?"

 

He was about to go on a tangent about the inferiority of both of those options to his normal breakfast, and Steve should _know this already_ when he noticed something. Steve had discreetly glanced over at the common area, where Bucky was sitting on one of the recliners eating something. A _pastry._ So his boyfriend was trying to cover for his best friend, eh? Not fucking likely. He  scowled at Steve, who flinched, and yelled out in irritation.

 

"Barnes! That better not be my fucking muffin!"

"What do you mean _your_ muffin? There was no name on this muffin!"

"It was implied! I eat that like every day."

"There are no implications in the realm of roomie foods."

 

He was two seconds from either punching him in the face or repulsoring him into a freshly baked Barnes when the ceiling started shrieking. The Avengers alarm, which was hooked up to the STARK Satellite. JARVIS pulled up the threat on a holo-screen, and Tony raised his eyebrows. Little, robotic _things_ were crawling all over everything: buildings, cars, and he assumed if they didn't hurry they'd be crawling over civilians.

\----

They all made their way back to the Tower. They were bloodied and hella bruised, but otherwise okay. Clint had to stop by SHIELD Med to get stitched up from where a robotic termite or whatever had snipped his leg, and Tony had a mild concussion from being shaken around in his suit while being shaken from side to side like a chew toy, but those were the worst of it. They all dispersed to get cleaned up, and agreed to meet up for Movie Night. It was Bucky's turn to pick, so they wound up watching James Bond movies until they were all ready to pass the hell out. Steve gave Tony a piggy back ride to bed like a good boyfriend, Clint somehow did his usual jump and scramble into the vents, Bruce quietly told everyone goodnight, Thor announced his retirement quietly (for him, because Steve put a finger to his lips, gesturing to Tony, who was lightly snoring at this point; he didn't sleep enough), Natasha nodded and gracefully slunk towards the elevator, along with Bucky.

 

 

Steve couldn't hold back his grin when Tony snuffled and burrowed deeper into his neck, arms tightening around him. He waited for the elevator to return and entered, and then exited and made his way towards their room, walking smoothly so he didn't jostle his sleeping boyfriend to much. He was grateful for JARVIS when the door slid open, and he somehow managed to maneuver him into bed.  He slid in next to him, wrapping his arm around his waist, and drifted off to sleep as well.

\---

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking. So, I'm sure there are some of you out there that can draw, paint, etc (unlike moi). I was hoping that one of you would make some sort of cover for the story. Any media is acceptable, but I would prefer something colored. Any submissions are due by November 30th, and the chosen submission will be featured on the first chapter, alongside a dedication (so leave your info with the submission)! I hope to see a few illustrations! :3

\-----

Tony groaned and blinked himself awake. The hard, frigid surface underneath him was _not_ his poster bed with Egyptian Cotton sheets and hella high thread count. And there was a distinct lack of Steve, or any of his teammates. 

 

He sat up, rubbing his aching head. It was dark, and freezing, and he most definitely wasn't in his tower. He looked around. Dark, damp concrete walls framed him, and a thick metal door cut him off from the outside world. And his suit was missing. 

 

He tried to rack his brain for what had happened. They had gotten a call to Assemble at the ass crack of dawn, and they had all sleepily made their way over to fucking Afghanistan of all places. He was never going to underestimate those asswipes again. He had been avoiding some weird grenade when it had gone off, sending out what must have been an EMP that knocked him square out of the damn sky.

 

The door swung open with a clang, and he watched as two guards threw an unconscious Bucky into the room. He tried to make his way over, but he couldn't _quite_ reach him thanks to the heavy shackles keeping him chained to the damn wall a few feet away. He was ecstatic when he heard a long, drawn out groan come from the other man. 

 

"Buck. Bucky. James Buchanan Fucking Barnes let me know you can hear me."

"Oh my god, shut _up,_ Tiny Stark."

"...I'm glad you're alright too, you asswipe."

 

Bucky struggled to sit up, and Tony soon saw why. His eyes widened, and he felt sick. Bucky smiled, all teeth.

 

"They wanted the tech. I put up a fight, so they put me under and took the whole damn thing."

"I...I'm so sorry...it's all my fault..."

"No it's not, Tiny Stark."

"But..."

"I'm alright. It's alright."

"It's not alright! You are _missing a goddamn arm."_

 

Bucky laughed without humor. 

 

"Well yeah, that sucks. But there wasn't anything you could have done chained to a fucking wall. If you really are determined to make it up to me, though, you better build me the best damn prosthetic the world has ever seen."

 

He felt like crying, but he managed a weak smile anyway.

 

"You bet your ass I will." 

\----

It could have been hours or days later, but they came back and grabbed him. He struggled, but he was hungry, thirsty, cold, and tired. So he was pretty sure that it wasn't doing much good. Soon he was strapped to a chair in front of a large tank. He had seen enough spy movies to know what that was for. He was pretty sure that they wouldn't blink twice at water boarding him, seeing as how they amputated one of his teammates arms for the tech.

 

"So. I'm fairly certain you know what we want."

"And I'm fairly certain I'm not going to give it to you."

 

Obviously that wasn't the right answer, because he soon got a face full of icy water. He yelled and sputtered and thrashed, gasping for air once they brought him back up.

\---

 

It had been God knows how long when the door blew itself open. The goons raised their guns, and a silver disk bounced between all four of them like a pinball. Steve ran in, battered and bloodied, but alive and mostly intact.

 

"Tony! Oh my god, sweetie. I've got you."

 

Tony hadn't even realized he'd started tearing up until Steve lifted him into a bridal carry and crushed his face to his neck. He would _not_ sob on Steve. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke it was mostly steady.

 

"Where're Clint and Thor?"

"They're looking for Bruce. I found your armor-briefcase thing."

 

Tony almost cried in relief, and within a minute his armor was back around him. The power was low, and he didn't have any room for excess theatrics, but at least it was back in his possession. He gave a lazy salute to Steve before leading him down the corridor where he thought Bucky was.

\----

They had obtained their one-armed teammate (and the expression Steve had made when he took in his childhood friend nearly broke his damn heart) and we're making their way anywhere but there when they ran into another third of their team. Well, Clint and Thor anyway. Clint looked wild and panicked, and Thor looked less so, but still some.

 

"Shit! Guys, we have to move. They've done something to Bruce and now-"

 

A thunderous roar echoed down the corridor, before an enormous green monster came barreling towards them. Tony was about to fire when Clint slid in front of him.

 

"No, that's Bruce-"

"The fuck?! What the _fuck_ did they do to him?"

"I don't know! He was in this chamber, and then I killed the power, and some goon shot at us and then he turned angry and green and fucking _huge."_

 

Bruce stopped in front of them, angrily snorting as he looked over every one of them. Then, without warning, he sat down, and Natasha slid down his back, releasing his neck where she had been clinging. She patted his leg, and he snorted. Tony decided to just ignore everything.

 

"So. Let's take a head count. Look's like the gang's all here. So. Bucky here is missing an arm. I've been tortured. Bruce has been turned into a green rage monster. And I'm assuming there are other injuries besides that one, right? Right."

 

He rolled his neck.

 

"We just need to get the fuck out of here. But first, we find out what the sons of a bitches want."

\------

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Bucky POV-**

 

He had been down here for what had to have been a couple hours.

 

He narrowed his eyes at the men in front of him. It was impossible to see what they were planning, as their faces were covered by those rediculous gas masks. They muttered to each other, and one spoke up again.

 

"Where did you get that device on your arm?"

 

He just growled. Like hell was he going to give them any information willingly. They were not impressed with his acts of defiance, and soon he had a sharp blow slam across his right cheek. He groaned, and spat out the blood from his new split-lip.

 

"It would be wise for you to answer my questions. Did Tony Stark make it?"

 

He spat again, this time at their feet. 

 

"Fuck you."

 

This time, a sharp pain in the general vicinity of his ribs as one of the men delivered a blow.

 

"We could do this all day, Barnes. Now I suggest you talk. Where did you get the shiny accessory?"

"From your mom's vanity-"

 

Another punch to the face, and then two more in quick succession. The inquisitor waved to the men behind him.

 

"We don't have time for this. Put him under. We're going to have to do it the hard way."

 

His struggles were in vain as he felt a needle jam itself into his neck.

\------

The world was blurry, and there was a numbness on his right side. What the hell? He tried to sit up, but found it very difficult for some reason. He lifted his head to assess the damage, and threw up. 

 

His is arm was missing.

 

The arm, and therefore his tech, was missing. Obviously they grew tired of asking how it worked and decided to just study it themselves. He wanted to scream, but he realized what a bad idea that would be. At least he wasn't bleeding out. He supposed they wanted him alive.

 

With a little more effort, he maneuvered himself upright. It wasn't necessary, however, because in just a few minutes, he was re-drugged and thrown into the cell with Iron Man.

\---

**Steve POV-**

 

His shield was missing.

 

That was the first thing that Steve noticed when he came to. The second was that he was bolted down to some sort of gurney. He wondered what was going on. He remembered that they had been infiltrating a Hydra base, and then everything had just gone dark.

 

He was the only one in this cell. There was nobody guarding him from the inside, but he was sure the corridor outside was swimming with them. He needed to break out and find his teammates and their gear. If his shield was gone,then he bet that their tech was gone, too. He struggled to find a way out of his restraints. He knew what he had to do. With a sigh, he steeled himself, and twisted his left wrist. The pain was sharp and immediate, but it gave him enough room to manuever it out of its bonds. Thank god he was ambidextrous, or this would have been much harder. Once that hand was free, he twisted the screw in the cuff until it released him.

 

Proud of himself, he slid off of the stone slab, and made his way to the door. Placing his ear against it, he listened for any noise that would prove that a guard was  outside. He noticed some chains in the corner of the room, and grinned. They would do nicely.

\----

While the chains were kind of loud, they made a good swinging weapon. He had just downed his fifth gaurd after fighting his way out of his cell when he found it. The room had weapons in it, alongside his shield, Tony's briefcase suit, Clint's equipment, and Bucky's gauntlet. He snatched all of them up, wrapped his chain (what? It was kind of useful) around his waist, and ran down the corridor to find the others.

\----

**Clint POV-**

 

This was bad. This was so bad. He had watched as they had taken Bruce, kicking and yelling, into a giant tank. After seeing what genetic monstrosities Hydra had been cooking up, he could only imagine what the hell _they_ were going to be used for. Thor was fighting his way awake, groaning deeply. Natasha was still out cold. 

 

The sedatives they had given him still made his head swim, and he wondered, even if he had his gear, if he would be able to shoot straight. It made no sense. What did they want with them? Where were Steve, Bucky, and Tony? 

 

He watched in horrified fascination as one of the mad scientists threw an enormous switch, bringing a growling machine to life. His stomach dropped. They were guneiea pigs. They were lab rats, and Bruce was going first. This couldn't be happening. He stood, banging on the glass of his cell. 

 

"BRUCE!"

\---- 

**Natasha POV-**

 

She snapped upwards, rolling into a defensive stance. Taking in her surroundings, she noticed that a number of her teammates were missing, and that she was in an enormous glass case surrounded by goons dressed in leather. It was like the Czech Republic all over again. 

 

A deafening roar brought her to her feet, and her eyes widened. An enormous, green, _thing_ hunkered it's way out of the glass case, swinging and smashing everything in its wake. She ducked when one of its humongous arms swung clear through the class container, and she rolled out of the way of the falling debris. Clint was yelling something at it.

 

"Bruce! BRUCE! It's us! Your friends! We're friendlies!"

"That's _Bruce?"_

"Yeah. We need to get him out of here. I'll lead, you steer."

 

 

And that hat was how she found herself struggling to maintain a hold on Bruce's very large, very green neck as he chased Clint and Thor down the corridors, smashing guards as they went.

\----

**Narrator POV-**

 

All of them recounted their tales to each other, and catalogued their various injuries. Once everyone was armed once more, they set out to find what was happening and why they couldn't seem to remember anything. 

 

Stealth wasn't really Bruce's forte anymore, so they decided to just move as fast as they could and pray that they found something quick. Room after room they searched, and all that came up was various machinery and more guards. They were about to call it quits when Iron Man stopped in mid-air.

 

"I-I hear-but, that's impossible!"

 

He took off, and the others struggled to catch up. When they finally did, they were met with the sight of Iron Man punching and blasting away at the thickest door they'd seen yet. 

 

"It can't be. What would-"

 

The door fell open with a thud, and Iron Man dropped to the ground, faceplate snapping up. The expression Tony wore was one of betrayal, and deep-rooted hurt.

 

"Obie?"

\------

 


End file.
